THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

From  the  collection  of 
Julius  Doerner,  Chicago 
Purchased,  1918. 

813) 


THE  SPRINGDALE  STORIES, 


COMPLETE  IX  SIX  VOLUMES. 


1. 

2. 

3 . 

4. 
3. 


ADELE. 

ERIC . 

HERBERT . 

NETTIE’S  TRIAL. 
JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


6.  ENN1SFELLEN. 


m llfftHRY 

OF  THE 

UMIV&iUiTY  ttf  lililOlS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/johnstonesfarmorOOsamu 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM; 

OR, 

THE  BURNING  PRAIRIE. 


BY 

MRS.  S.  B.  C.  SAMUELS, 

AUTHOR  OF  “ HERBERT,”  “ ERIC,”  “ NETTIE’S  TRIAL,” 
“ ENN1SFELLEN,”  “ ADELE.” 


BOSTON 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD  PUBLISHERS 

CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM  NEW  YORK 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  }rear  1870, 

By  LEE  AND  SHEPARD, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


TO 

FREDERIC  ATHERTON  CALDWELL . 


672132 


PREFACE. 


The  incidents  and  characters  described  in 
this  volume  are  such  as  are  of  often  occurrence. 

The  simple  story  of  Johnstone,  who  had  in 
early  life  departed  from  the  right,  but  now  by 
good  influences  has  been  brought  back  from 
the  wrong  path,  is  from  real  life,  as  is  also  the 
character  represented  by  his  kind  and  good 
wife,  Marion. 

The  influence  of  the  little  blind  girl  Nettie 
on  the  recluse  farmer  Leonard,  is  productive 
of  great  good.  The  lesson  taught  by  her  pa- 
tience and  calm  resignation,  under  one  of  the 
greatest  of  trials,  he  takes  to  himself,  and  throw- 
ing his  moroseness  and  misanthropy  aside,  again 
takes  his  proper  position  in  society,  which  he 
had,  by  a selfish  disregard  of  the  wisdom  of 
Providence,  forfeited. 


(5) 


6 


PREFACE. 


Nettie’s  trial  and  subsequent  restoration  to 
sight  should  be  well  pondered  over  by  my 
young  readers. 

Wilfulness  and  disregard  of  a parent’s  wishes 
are  surely  punished  ; and  a meek  and  resigned 
spirit,  when  the  Lord  chasteneth,  is  as  surely 
rewarded. 

The  burning  of  the  prairie  and  the  escape 
from  the  Indians  are  incidents  familiar  to  all 
who  are  conversant  with  early  frontier  life. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I.  page 

The  Arrival 9 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Fire 20 

CHAPTER  III. 

Eric’s  Bravery 33 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Lulu  May’s  New  Home 48 

CHAPTER  V. 

Pleasant  Surprises.  . 60 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Out  on  the  Prairie 76 


7 


8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Tiie  Suspense 90 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Indians’  Attack 100 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Surgeon-General’s  Story 114 

CHAPTER  X. 

Dr.  Francis 128 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Nettie’s  Blindness  cured 144 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  End  of  the  Summer 153 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  ARRIVAL 


OHNSTONE’S  FARM  was  in  Omaha 


City,  upon  the  banks  of  the  broad  and 
beautiful  Missouri  River. 

The  house  was  built  of  stone  ; " for,”  said 
Johnstone,  "I  want  it  to  last.”  It  was 
large,  and  roomy,  and  pleasant,  with  bow- 
windows  ; and  a broad  piazza  extended  en- 
tirely around  it. 

A dozen  years  before  Johnstone  built  his 
house,  some  one  had  planted  trees  upon  the 
place.  These  now  greatly  added  to  its  natu- 
ral beauty  and  picturesqueness.  A grove 
of  horse-chestnuts  were  north  of  the  house, 


10 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


between  it  and  the  river.  Three  graceful 
elms  shaded  the  front  windows ; drooping 
Norway  spruce  trees  stood  here  and  there,  and 
a clump  of  maples  partly  hid  the  huge  stone 
stable  from  sight.  A carriage  drive  swept, 
with  a graceful  curve,  from  the  road  to  the 
house,  and  thence  around  under  the  maples 
to  the  stable  ; and  a broad  stone  wall,  firm 
and  solid  like  the  buildings,  enclosed  the 
whole  street  side  of  the  farm. 

All  this  stone  had  been  brought  to  Omaha, 
at  a great  expense,  by  a former  land-owner. 
Johnstone  was  then  working  a lot  he  had 
bought  in  a Colorado  gold  mine,  and,  having 
procured  considerable  gold,  and  wishing  to 
try  his  hand  at  farming,  he  exchanged  his 
lot  in  the  mine  for  the  forty  acres  of  farm 
land  in  Omaha,  together  with  the  huge  piles 
of  stone  which  the  former  owner  had  in- 
tended for  a couple  of  factories.  When  the 
exchange  was  made,  both  parties  considered 
that  they  had  made  excellent  bargains. 

And  so  it  proved.  The  man  who  had 


THE  ARRIVAL. 


11 


failed  with  his  factory  project  made  money 
with  the  mine;  and  Johnstone,  with  the 
piles  of  unused  stone,  built  one  of  the  most 
substantial  farm  houses  in  the  western 
country. 

The  house  was  built  upon  high  ground, 
and  all-around  it  was  a gently-sloping  lawn, 
of  smoothest  velvet  grass,  broken  only  by 
the  curving  drive-way,  the  clumps  of  trees, 
and  bright  parterres  of  flowers.  Beyond  the 
house  was  the  silver-glistening  river,  blue 
painted  by  the  skies,  and  beyond  the  river 
the  highlands  of  Council  Bluffs. 

Johnstone  and  his  wife  were  now  quite 
settled  in  their  pleasant  home,  and  on  the 
day  on  which  our  story  begins,  were  expect- 
ing an  arrival  from  New  York.  Johnstone 
had  gone  to  meet  the  train,  and  Marion  — 
Mrs.  Johnstone  now  — was  looking  from  the 
piazza  off  to  the  town,  watching  eagerly  for 
the  first  glimpse  of  her  visitors. 

Presently  two  spirited  black  horses  dashed 
down  the  road,  and  wheeled  the  pretty  carry- 


12 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


all  they  drew  in  at  the  gate,  and  up  the 
drive-way,  and  had  stopped  at  the  front  steps 
before  Mrs.  Johnstone  could  get  down  to 
them  to  extend  her  cordial  welcome  to  the 
boy  and  girl  in  the  carriage. 

" My  dear  Eric  ! Nettie,  darling  ! I am 
so  glad  to  see  you  ! ” she  exclaimed,  as  a boy, 
who  was  Eric  Hyde,  sprang  to  the  ground, 
and  grasped  her  hands  eagerly,  and  then 
turned  to  help  his  sister.  Johnstone  was 
before  him,  however,  and  had  lifted  Nettie 
out,  and  led  her  to  Marion. 

"You  dear  children!”  continued  Mrs. 
Johnstone,  "how  did  you  leave  them  all  at 
home?  Well?  And  you  came  all  alone? 
Where’s  Allan  Ramsdell  ? ” 

" He  had  to  stop  at  Des  Moines,  to  visit 
his  uncle  there,”  said  Nettie;  "he  is  coming 
on  here  next  week.  They  are  all  well,  and 
send  love.  Do  you  think,  Marion  — I mean 
Mrs.  Johnstone  — ” 

"No,  no,  — Marion,”  said  the  other, 

laughing, 
o © 


NETTIE  AND  ERIC. 


13 


" Well,  then,  Marion,  do  you  think,  papa 
made  us  telegraph  from  Erie  and  Chicago, 
and  again  from  here,  when  we  arrived,  and 
Allan  had  to  send  a despatch  to  his  aunt  from 
Des  Moines.” 

" That  shows  how  careful  they  are  of 
you,”  said  Johnstone;  " and  no  wonder, 
either ! Over  a thousand  miles  is  a long 
journey  for  such  young  travellers  alone.” 
"Come  up  to  your  room,”  suggested  Mar- 
ion, leading  the  way.  "If  you  feel  as  I do 
after  a long  railway  jaunt,  you’ll  be  glad  of 
fresh  water,  and  cool,  quiet  rest.” 

She  slipped  an  arm  around  Nettie’s  waist, 
and  led  her  up  the  steps,  and  through  the 
hall,  to  a room  on  the  ground  floor. 

" This  is  for  you,  Nettie  ; my  room  is  next 
it,  and  Eric’s  is  the  one  above  this.  Matty,” 
she  continued,  calling  to  a bright-looking 
little  Indian  boy  at  play  on  the  lawn,  "come 
here.  Take  Master  Eric  to  the  east  room, 
up  stairs.  You’ll  find  everything  ready  for 
you  there,  Eric,  and  by  the  time  you  need 


14 


Johnstone’s  fa  km. 


your  trunk,  Matty’s  father  will  have  it  here 
from  the  station.” 

''Here  he  is  now,”  said  Matty,  thrust- 
ing his  head  in  at  the  door.  " He  wants  to 
know  which  is  to  go  in  here  and  which  up 
stairs.” 

Eric  ran  out  to  give  the  desired  informa- 
tion, and  helped  bring  in  the  trunks;  and 
Matty  quickly  followed  with  a valise  and 
travelling  shawls  the  children  had  left  in  the 
carriage. 

Marion  led  Nettie  to  a chair  by  the  win- 
dow. Poor  Nettie  Hyde  had  been  blind  for 
more  than  a year.  She  could  not  see  the 
pretty  room  prepared  for  her,  with  its  fresh 
straw  matting,  white  curtains,  and  delicately 
tinted  paper ; and  she  could  not  see  the 
tender  anxiety  with  which  Marion  regarded 
her.  She  had  been  Nettie’s  governess  be- 
fore her  marriage  with  Johnstone,  and  then 
her  little  pupil  had  had  the  full  use  of  both 
her  bright  black  eyes. 

Her  blindness  was  the  result  of  an  acci- 


Nettie’s  blindness. 


15 


dent.  It  had  caused  her  friends  great  grief ; 
but  the  trial  had  been  for  the  child’s  benefit, 
and  had  changed  her  thoughtless,  impulsive, 
headstrong  disposition  to  a gentle,  careful 
obedience,  and  a firm  reliance  and  trust  in 
the  wisdom  that  comes  from  above. 

Nettie  could  not  see,  but  her  hearing  was 
very  acute.  Seated  in  her  chair  by  the  win- 
dow she  took  in  everything. 

"What  beautiful,  clear,  fresh  air!”  she 
exclaimed,  as  the  grateful  breezes  fanned  her 
brow ; " and,  Marion,  don’t  I hear  falling 
water  ? ” 

"Yes,  dear,  there  is  a little  rill  close  to 

the  house : it  flows  from  a crvstal-clear 

•/ 

spring,  and  Mr.  Johnstone  has  turned  its 
course  to  fall  over  the  stable-yard  wall  into 
a trough  for  the  horses.  That  is  what  you 
hear;  and  besides  that,  there  is  the  beautiful 
Missouri,  as  blue  as  the  sky^  above  it,  and 
sparkling  with  silver  light.” 

"I  wish  I could  see  it,”  said  Nettie  pa- 
thetically. 


16 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


"I  wish  you  could,  dear,”  answered  Mari- 
on. "Let  me  help  you  take  off  your  gar- 
ments, and  then  you  may  refresh  yourself 
with  a plunge  in  its  cool  water.” 

"That  will  be  nice,”  said  Nettie,  "I  am 
sure  : but  I don’t  need  any  help : if  you  will 
show  me  where  the  things  are,  and  help  me 
just  about  opening  the  trunk,  I can  get  along 
nicely.  I’ve  learned  to  wait  on  myself.” 

So  Marion  opened  the  trunk,  and  propped 
its  cover  up  by  means  of  the  stays,  which 
Nettie  explained  her  papa  had  put  in  it  to 
keep  the  top  from  falling  upon  her  hands. 
Then  showing  her  where  to  find  whatever 
she  would  need,  .Marion  drew  the  window- 
blinds,  and  left  her  to  manage  for  herself ; 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  Nettie  did  not 
mean  to  make  any  trouble,  and  that  this  was 
another  of  the  beneficial  effects  her  blindness 
had  brought  about.  Not  that  she  would  not 
gladly  have  helped  the  child,  whom  she  loved 
like  a sister ; but  she  knew  how  important  a 
lesson  it  is  for  young  girls  to  learn  to  help 


Marion’s  arrangements.  17 

themselves,  whenever  they  can  manage  with- 
out assistance. 

Looking  into  the  pleasant  dining-room, 
where  an  inviting  lunch  was  spread,  to  see 
if  everything  was  as  it  should  be,  and  calling 
Matty,  to  keep  him  from  troubling  Eric,  she 
ran  down  the  path  to  meet  Johnstone,  who 
had  been  to  the  stable  with  the  horses. 

" Those  children  were  crazy  with  del  ight 
when  they  got  here,”  said  her  husband,  laugh- 
ing at  the  remembrance,  and  tucking  his 
wife’s  arm  within  his  own,  to  walk  back  to 
the  house.  " Eric  threw  his  cap  in  the  air 
and  shouted  aloud,  and  Nettie  talked  inco- 
herently about  dear  Mr.  Johnstone  and  her 
darling  Marion.  The  baggage-master  was 
paid  to  look  after  them,  although  they  did  not 
know  of  it,  and  Eric  wondered  what  made 
him  so  kind  to  them.  Mr.  Hyde’s  idea  is  a 
sensible  one,  in  teaching  them  to  take  care  of 
themselves.  But  I always  notice  he  has 
some  one  to  look  well  after  them,  for  all  his 
tlfeory.” 


9 


18 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


"Of  course  he  has,”  said  Marion;  "what 
good  father  would  not?  You  didn’t  say 
anything  about  our  surprise,  did  you,  Mur- 
ray ? ” 

"No,  my  dear:  didn’t  I promise  you?” 
"Yes;  but  I thought  you  might  forget. 
You  are  so  fond  of  making  every  one  happy, 
you  know.” 

"That  last  was  a saving  clause,  Mrs. 
Johnstone,  fortunately  for  your  peace  of 
mind,”  he  retorted  gayly.  "I  have  just  left 
orders  to  have  those  horses  driven  up  after 
luncheon,  to  be  ready  for  service.” 

"And  Nettie’s  is  perfectly  safe?” 

" As  safe  and  gentle  as  your  own  Lady 
Nell.” 

"There  is  Eric  at  his  window,  dressed 
already.  I must  go  in  to  see  if  Nettie  wants 
me.  Matty,  run  up  and  see  if  Master  Eric 
is  ready  to  have  you  polish  his  boots.  Mur- 
ray, you  will  prepare  for  luncheon?” 

"Yes,  yes,  Mrs.  Housekeeper.  Hark 


THE  SURPRISE. 


19 


you,  Matty,  don’t  you  sav  a 
those  horses  : d’ye  hear  ? ” 
"Yes,  sir,”  shouted  back  the 
fellow,  and  then  rapidly  turning 
of  somersaults,  he  disappeared. 


word  about 

bright  little 
a succession 


20  Johnstone’s  farm 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  FIRE 


HEN  Marion  reached  Nettie’s  room, 


she  found  her  neatly  dressed,  waiting 
only  for  Marion  to  give  her  a ribbon  for  her 
hair  and  throat,  because,  of  course,  she  could 
not  tell  the  proper  color. 

" I want  a pink  ribbon  and  bow  from  my 
bo£,  my  dear  Marion,”  said  she,  "and  please 
see  if  my  hair  is  parted  straight and  then, 
when  Marion  gave  her  a few  finishing  touch- 
es, she  came  out  with  her,  looking  so  fresh, 
and  bright,  and  pretty,  that  little  Matty  stared 
at  her  in  undisguised  admiration. 

"Isn’t  it  pleasant  here,  Nettie?”  asked 
Eric,  as  they  gathered  around  the  the  table  ; 
" and  don’t  you  feel  refreshed  after  our  long, 
dustjr  car  ride?” 


mr.  carmtciiarl's  failure.  21 

" Yes,  indeed,”  said  Nettie. 

"There  were  some  people  in  the  cars,  Mr. 
Johnstone,”  continued  Eric,  "who  were  going 
to  Denver  City.  You  may  be  sure  we  were 
glad  we  were  not  going  there.” 

" I should  think  so,”  exclaimed  Nettie ; 
"why,  I was  almost  tired  to  death  coming 
here ! ” 

"You  will  soon  get  over  that,”  said  John- 
stone. " But  tell  us  some  of  the  New 
York  news.*  How’s  that  nice  little  Baby 
May  ? ” 

" O,  she  is  the  dearest  little  thing  ! ” burst 
in  Eric  and  Nettie  together.  " She  says 
everything  now.  She  calls  herself  * Maby- 
leseide,’  and  says  she’s  * nunky  Tarlie’s  dirl,’ 
and  just  jabbers  and  chatters  from  morning 
till  night.” 

" And  how  are  Laura  Carmichael  and 
Lillie  Hall?”  asked  Marion. 

" O,”  exclaimed  Nettie,  "they  are  well; 
but  Mr.  Carmichael  has  failed.” 

"Failed!”  cried  Johnstone  and  his  wife 


22 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


together,  completely  surprised,  for  Mr.  Car- 
michael had  been  a very  rich  man. 

" Yes,”  said  Eric;  " he  has  lost  every- 
thing.” 

" And  what  has  become  of  that  fine  young 
man,  Thomas?”  asked  Johnstone,  greatly 
interested. 

" He  is  looking  about  for  a chance  to  do 
something  to  help  the  others  ; but  times  are 
very  dull  in  New  York,”  said  the  practical 
Eric. 

A brilliant  idea  struck  Johnstone.  Starting 
from  his  seat,  he  exclaimed,  "My  dear  Mar- 
ion, will  you  excuse  me?” 

"Certainly,”  said  she;  but  looked  so 
surprised  that  he  stooped  and  whispered  in 
her  ear,  "The  new  school  !”  And  instantly 
it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that  he  meant  to 
procure  its  vacant  office  of  preceptorship  for 
Thomas  Carmichael,  and  she  remembered 
there  was  a meeting  of  its  board  of  directors 
at  Omaha  in  half  an  hour. 

"You  are  a splendid  fellow,  Murray,” 


JOHNSTONE’S  PLAN  FOR  TOM.  23 


said  she,  looking  after  him,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "I  hope  you  will  be  successful.” 

Eric  and  Nettie  were  delighted  when  they 
learned  where  he  was  gone,  and  for  what 
purpose. 

" Isn’t  he  just  the  best  man  in  the  world  ? 99 
cried  Eric,  admiringly. 

And,  "he  certainly  is,”  warmly  assented 
Marion. 

" Papa  tells  Eric  not  to  let  grass  grow 
under  his  feet,”  said  Nettie.  "I  am  sure 
Mr.  Johnstone  never  does.” 

"No,”  said  Marion,  proudly  ; "and  that  is 
one  reason  of  his  unusual  success  in  every- 
thing he  undertakes.” 

" I hope  he  will  secure  the  situation  for 
Thomas  Carmichael,”  continued  Eric.  " Papa 
says  he  does  good  everywhere  he  goes,  and 
to  every  one  whom  he  meets.  And  he,  and 
mamma,  and  uncle  Charlie  have  tried  very 
hard  to  get  him  some  such  position  at  home. 
I do  hope  he  will  succeed.” 


24 


johnstone’s  farm. 


In  this  wish  Marion  and  Nettie  heartily 
joined. 

"H  ovv  would  you  like  to  walk  out  and 
meet  Mr.  Johnstone  ?”  proposed  Marion,  as 
they  rose  from  the  table.  w I suppose  he  will 
return  soon  now.  Would  you  like  the  walk ” 
" Of  all  things,”  replied  the  children  ; and 
Eric  went  for  the  hats. 

They  had  a pleasant  walk,  but  did  not 
meet  Johnstone  until  they  had  gained  the 
town.  Then  Eric  spied  him,  coming  from 
the  station.  He  ran  after  him,  and  in  a 
minute  Johnstone  came  hastening  towards 
Marion  and  Nettie,  exclaiming,  as  soon  as 
he  was  near  enough  to  be  heard,  — 
w It’s  all  right;  he’s  appointed.” 

Marion  smiled  gladly,  Nettie  clapped  her 
hands,  and  Eric  indulged  in  his  usual  dem- 
onstration of  joy  — throwing  his  cap  high  in 
the  air,  and  catching  it  as  it  fell. 

" I have  sent  a telegram  for  him  to  your 
father,  children.  By  this  time  the  message 
has  reached  him.” 


THE  FIRE. 


25 


" And  when  will  his  answer  come?”  asked 
Marion. 

" Any  time  within  a week.  I told  him  to 
take  a day  or  two  to  consider,  in  case  — ” 

" Fire  ! ” screamed  a voice,  right  in  their 
ears.  "Fire,  fire!”  and  a man  shot  by, 
followed  by  several  others.  All  at  once  the 
air  was  filled  with  shrieks  and  yells,  and  cries 
of  " fire  ! ” and  the  street  became  a scene  of 
the  wildest  confusion.  They  were  directly 
in  the  centre  of  the  town,  and  could  not  help 
themselves.  Horses  plunged  and  reared ; 
the  cries  grew  louder,  until  it  seemed  as  if 
the  whole  city  were  shrieking  the  dreadful 
word.  Suddenly  the  engines  came  rattling 
along,  and  a body  of  men  and  boys  swept  the 
street  and  sidewalks  of  all  obstructions. 

Johnstone  had  just  time  to  withdraw  Mar- 
ion and  Nettie  to  the  shelter  of  a neighboring 
doorway  when  the  crowd  swept  by,  carrying 
Eric  with  them. 

Nettie  was  dreadfully  frightened.  All  this 
noise  and  terror  seemed  the  more  fearful  to 


2G  jotinstone’s  farm. 

her,  because  she  could  not  look  out  upon  the 
scene  as  others  could.  She  clung  to  Marion, 
who  was  -scarcely  less  pale  and  trembling 
than  herself,  and  Johnstone’s  anxiety  for 
them  both  prevented  his  helping  Eric.  They 
were  now  right  in  the  thick  of  the  crowd  : 
an  engine  was  stationed  close  beside  them, 
and  the  terrible  oaths  of  the  firemen,  as  they 
plied  the  brakes,  were  enough  to  make  a 
stronger  nature  than  Nettie’s  shudder. 

The  wild  western  men  did  not  pause  to 
think  that  they  were  tempting  the  wrath  of 
the  Lord,  with  their  lives  in  momentary  dan- 
ger of  the  menacing  fire. 

" Slow  to  anger,  and  of  tender  mercy,” 
murmured  Marion ; " it  is  well  for  their 
souls.” 

"I  must  get  you  out  of  this,”  said  John- 
stone. "Come  right  through  this  building. 
Nettie,  give  me  your  hand  : Marion,  take  my 
arm.  I’ll  put  you  both  in  a safe  place,  and 
then  come  back  for  Eric.” 

"Eric  ! Is  he  not  with  us?”  cried  Marion, 


ERIC  MISSING. 


27 


looking  around,  while  Nettie  began  wringing 
her  hands,  and  crying  he  would  certainly  be 
killed. 

”1  do  not  think  he  is  in  danger,  Nettie,” 
said  Johnstone  calmly  ; " but  in  case  he  is,  I 
cannot  go  to  him  until  I see  you  and  Marion 
safely  on  the  way  home.  So  your  surest 
way  of  helping  the  lad  is  to  control  your  feel- 
ings, and  trust  to  our  care.  You  are  in  no 
danger  now.” 

" I will  do  anything,  anything,  Mr.  John- 
stone, only  do  help  Eric.  Marion  will  take 
me  home.  Do  go  to  him.  I am  so  afraid 
something  will  happen  to  him  ! ” pleaded 
Nettie.  They  were  by  this  time  in  another 
street,  which  was  comparatively  quiet,  all  the 
people  having  gone  round  to  where  the  fire 
was  racing.  Johnstone  hurried  them  down 
it  and  through  another,  where  seeing  a neigh- 
bor  driving  towards  home  in  his  carriage,  he 
hailed  him,  and  left  his  wife  and  Nettie  in 
his  care,  directly  turning  back  to  look  up 
Eric. 


28 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


" Yer  needn’t  worry  about  yer  brother, 
miss,”  said  Nettie’s  would-be  consoler,  touch- 
ing up  his  horses  ; " boys  are  just  like  cats  : 
whatever  happens  to  ’em,  they’re  right  on 
their  feet  again.  He’s  safe,  there’s  no  doubt 
on’t.” 

And  Nettie  was  comforted,  though  she 
quite  failed  to  see  the  resemblance  between 
her  cherished  Eric  and  a cat. 

"That  ere’s  a powerful  big  fire,  Miss  Jon- 
son,”  he  continued,  entirely  disregarding 
Marion’s  matrimonial  title,  and  the  aristocrat- 
ic t in  her  surname  , " it  caught  in  one  o’ 
them  wooden  tenement-houses,  near  the  sta- 
tion. The  whole  block  will  have  to  <ro.  All 
the  water  in  the  Great  Lakes  wouldn’t  put 
it  out  in  this  breeze.  From  New  York, 
hey  ? ” 

This  to  Nettie,  whose  eyes  were  apparently 
looking  straight  at  him.  "Did  you  ever  see 
a finer  country  than  this  ? ” 

Marion  made  a quick  sign,  fearing  that 
Nettie  might  be  sensitive  with  strangers  ; but 


SYMPATHY. 


29 


she  was  not  in  time  to  stop  the  question,  nor 
Nettie’s  sad  reply. 

"I  cannot  see  at  all.” 

" I want  to  know  ! ” exclaimed  this  rough, 
but  kind-hearted  farmer.  " You  poor  little 
chicken  ! ” he  added,  in  such  a sympathetic 
tone,  that  Nettie,  whose  nerves  were  all  un- 
strung by  the  excitement  of  the  fire,  and 
anxiety  for  Eric,  burst  into  tears. 

"There,  now,  I’ve  done  it ! ” said  the  man, 
in  real  distress.  " Don’t  cry,  miss,  there’s  a 
good  girl ; now  don’t ! ” 

" She  is  all  tired  out,”  said  Marion,  put- 
ting an  arm  around  Nettie,  and  trying  to 
soothe  her.  "She  has  travelled  all  the  way 
from  New  York,  almost  without  rest,  and  that 
is  enough  to  upset  one’s  nerves  without  being 
terrified  by  such  a scene  as  we  have  just  left 
at  the  fire.  You  get  us  home,  if  you  please, 
Mr.  Leonard,  where  we  can  rest  quietly.  X 
ought  not  to  have  taken  her  out  again  to- 
day.” 

Mr.  Leonard,  conscious  of  having  blun- 


30 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


dered,  and  feeling  vastly  ashamed  of  himself, 
whipped  up  his  horses,  and  in  a minute  had 
them  turning  in  at  the  drive-way  of  John- 
stone’s Farm. 

Marion  whispered  to  Nettie  that  she  was 
hurting  the  good  man’s  feelings  ; and  Nettie 
swallowed  her  tears,  and  held  out  her  hand 
to  wish  him  " good  by  ” after  he  had  helped 
them  from  the  carriage  : by  that  little,  sim- 
ple act  gaining  in  him  a friend  for  life. 

" Miss  Jonson  must  let  yer  come  over  an’ 
ride  on  my  hay  loads.  Reckon  yer’ll  like 
that ! an’  I’ve  got  a little  pony,  no  bigger 
than  a Newfoundland  dog,  I’ll  teach  yer  to 
ride  on.” 

ft  Thank  you ; you’re  very  kind,”  said 
Nettie,  pleased  with  the  offer.  And  she  was 
still  more  pleased  when  Marion  told  her,  after 
lie  had  driven  away,  that  the  Shetland  pony 
was  highly  prized  by  Mr.  Leonard.  That  al- 
though he  had  no  use  for  it,  he  would  neither 
sell  nor  lend  it,  but  kept  it,  in  tender  mem- 


THE  SHETLAND  TONY. 


31 


ory  of  his  little  dead  son,  who  had  dearly 
loved  it. 

"I  am  sorry  I made  him  feel  badly, 
Marion,  with  my  silly  tears,”  said  Nettie, 
"he  was  so  kind.  It  was  that.  When  he 
said,  'You  poor,  little  chicken,’  it  made  me 
pity  myself,  as  if  I were  very  unfortunate.  I 
wonder  what  makes  every  one  so  kind  to  me  ; 
so  much  kinder  now  than  they  used  to  be  ! ” 

" Perhaps  you  take  more  pains  to  be  kind 
to  others  than  you  used  to,  Nettie.” 

"I?  O,  Marion,  what  can  I do  to  help 
any  one?  I think  more  about  it  now,  I 
know,  but  I can’t  do  anything.” 

But  Marion  was  right : the  little  acts  of 
kindness,  springing  from  kind  thoughts,  and 
of  which  she  was  quite  unconscious,  were 
Nettie’s  peculiar  charm. 

"Now,  my  dear,”  said  Marion,  leading  her 
to  an  easy  lounge,  "I  want  you  tc^  lie  down 
here  and  rest,  while  I sing  some  of  your  old 
favorite  songs.”  And  taking  Nettie’s  hat, 
and  smoothing  down  her  tumbled  hair  with  a 


32 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


gentle,  caressing  touch,  she  began  the  sooth- 
ing influence  that,  with  her  low,  sweet  voice, 
soon  lulled  the*tired  child  to  sleep. 

Marion  threw  a light  shawl  over  her,  and 
stooping  to  leave  a kiss  upon  the  poor  sight- 
less eyes,  went  out  upon  the  piazza. 

The  fire  alarm  had  ceased  its  clangor,  and 
and  she  anxiously  looked  for  Johnstone’s  re- 
turn with  Eric. 


eric’s  bravery. 


33 


CHAPTER  III. 

eric’s  bravery. 

WHEN  Eric  felt  himself  borne  along 
by  the  crowd  he  knew  resistance 
was  useless,  so  remaining  passive,  except  for 
the  motion  of  his  feet,  he  was  carried  on  in 
the  jam  to  where  they  were  fighting  the  fire ; 
and  once  in  sight  of  the  blazing  edifice,  he 
lost  all  thought  of  returning,  completely 
carried  away  by  the  excitement  of  the  scene. 

All  the  occupants  and  some  of  the  furni- 
ture had  been  hustled  out  when  the  fire  be- 
gan, and  there  was  now  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  reduce  the  flames,  and  keep  the  con- 
flagration from  spreading  to  the  surrounding 
buildings. 

Suddenly  there  came  a shriek,  so  appalling 

3 


34 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


that  it  was  heard  above  ail  other  sounds  in 
the  noisy  street,  and  turning  to  know  its 
cause,  all  beheld  a woman  pointing  to  a 
window  in  the  burning  house.  And  there, 
through  the  steam,  and  the  smoke,  and  the 
curling  flames,  they  saw  a little  child. 

" May  ! May  ! my  darling  ! my  baby  ! ” 
the  agonized  mother  was  shrieking.  "Will 
no  one  save  my  baby?” 

And  the  little  golden-haired  child  at  the 
window  stretched  forth  her  little  arms  in 
a pleading  gesture  for  help. 

Eric  was  standing  where  the  jet  of  a hose- 
pipe showered  a steady  stream  of  water  upon 
him.  He  was  drenched  to  the  skin,  but  his 
heart  seemed  on  fire. 

"May!”  he  repeated,  as  in  a maze. 
" What  if  it  were  our  baby  May  ? ” 

And  in  an  instant  he  had  darted  across  the 
crowded  street.  Some  one  had  placed  a 
ladder  against  the  house,  but  no  one  dared 
attempt  the  child’s  rescue.  Hungry  tongues 
of  flame  were  already  lapping  that  side  of 


THE  BURNING  HOUSE. 


35 


the  building,  and  fhe  front  was  burned  nearly 
away ; every  minute  rendered  the  chances 
of  escape  less  possible. 

There  were  many  brave  firemen  in  the 
crowd  whose  hearts  bled  for  the  helpless 
little  one,  but  who  thought  it  madness  to 
enter  the  burning  pile.  And  there  were 
many  brave,  rich  gentlemen,  who  offered 
large  sums  of  money  to  any  one  who  would 
make  an  effort  to  save  the  child. 

Eric  neither  saw  nor  heard  them ; he 
seized  a rope  from  one  of  the  engines,  and 
when  that  poor  woman’s  frantic  cry  again 
rent  the  air,  — 

"For  the  love  of  Heaven!  Will  no  one 
save  my  child?  She  is  all  I have  in  the 
world!  Will  no  one  save  her?” 

"Yes,  I will  !”  came  ringing  through  the 
crowd,  in  a brave,  clear  voice,  and  in  an 
instant  Eric  had  sprung  upon  the  ladder, 
and  was  climbing  up  it. 

" Come  back  ! ” 

" You  are  crazy  ! ” 


36  Johnstone’s  farm. 

" You  are  going  straight  to  your  death  ! ” 
were  the  cries  sent  after  him.  But  Eric 
only  heard  the  mother’s  fervent  " God  bless 
you ! ” 

And  the  hearty  cheer  that  rang  up  from 
the  breathless  crowd  rave  him  fresh  courage. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Johnstone 
reached  the  place  in  search  of  him.  All  the 
engines  were  now  playing  upon  the  part  of 
the  house  where  the  child  was ; but,  not- 
withstanding, the  flames  rapidly  enveloped 
it,  and  Johnstone  saw  with  horror  at  the 
same  time  that  the  boy  upon  the  ladder  was 
Eric,  and  that  the  ladder  was  on  fire  in  two 
places,  and  the  rope  blazing  in  his  hands. 

"You  cowardly  knaves!”  he  cried,  in  a 
frenzy  of  rage,  to  the  groaning  firemen. 
"You  cowards,  to  let  a child  do  your 
duty  ! — Courage,  Eric  ! I am  coming  to  help 
you  ! ” and  he  sprang  upon  the  fire-encircled 
ladder. 

It  trembled,  and  then  broke  and  fell. 
But  Eric  had  gained  the  window,  and  clung 


ERIC  SAVES  THE  CHILD.  37 


to  it,  grasping  the  child,  who  flung  her 
little  arms  around  his  neck,  and  instinctively 
clung  to  him,  and  Johnstone,  by  an  extra- 
ordinary spring,  gained  the  ledge  beside  him. 

" Tell  her  to  hold  on  tight,  Eric,”  said  he, 
quickly.  " Drop  that  rope,  it  will  set  you 
on  fire.  Take  her  dress  in  your  teeth.  Now 
put  your  arms  around  my  neck.  It  is  your 
only  chance.  Be  quick  ! God  help  us  now  ! 
Hold  on  tight ! Don’t  drop  the  child  ! ” 

" Stand  back,  every  one  ! ” came  the  warn- 
ing cry  from  the  street. 

'f  Stand  back  ! the  building  is  falling  ! ” 
And  it  did  fall,  but  not  before  Johnstone, 
calling  into  play  all  his  old,  wonderful  skill 
as  gymnast,  had  swung  himself  and  his 
double  burden  safely  to  the  ground. 

They  were  seized,  and  dragged  forward 
just  in  time  to  escape  the  falling  timbers, 
which  seemed  to  pursue  the  prey  of  which 
they  had  been  robbed. 

Johnstone,  Eric,  and  the  little  stranger, 
baby  May,  were  all  saved.  But  the  baby’s 


38 


Johnstone’s  far  m . 


mother,  springing  forward  to  thank  her 
child’s  brave  deliverers,  was  crushed  to 
death  beneath  the  felling  embers. 

It  was  very  sad.  But,  even  so,  her  death 
must  have  been  happier  to  her,  knowing 
that  her  little  May  was  safe  in  kind  hands. 

It  sobered  the  noisy  joy  of  the  crowd  to 
know  that  the  little  rescued  one  was  made 
an  orphan  by  the  same  element  from  which 
she  had  been  delivered. 

In  the  midst  of  their  praises  and  congrat- 
ulations Johnstone  and  Eric  slipped  away, 
Eric  still  bearing’  the  child,  and  declaring  he 
would  never  give  her  up. 

Johnstone’s  bravery  and  presence  of  mind 
won  the  approbation  of  all.  Eric  and  the 
child  would  both  have  perished  but  for 
him. 

While  everybody  was  inquiring  who  "that 
brave  little  fellow  ” was,  and  where  he  had 
gone,  Eric  was  struggling  through  the  mass 
of  people  ; his  precious  burden  safe  now  in 
Johnstone’s  care.  He  had  been  obliged  to 


I 


GOING  FROM  THE  FIRE.  39 

relinquish  her,  for  the  pain  in  his  scarred 
hands  and  face  was  dreadful,  and  growing 
worse  every  moment. 

While  he  hung  upon  the  ledge,  hot,  angry 
breaths  of  fire  darting  out  upon  him,  had 
scorched  his  face  and  singed  his  thick  brown 
curls,  until  they  hung  forlorn  and  ragged 
over  his  aching  eyes  ; and  the  poor  hands, 
more  exposed  to  the  pitiless  fire,  were  cruel- 
ly burned  : but  the  heroic  lad  had  scarcely 
felt  the  pain  until  the  danger  was  past  and 
the  excitement  over.  Then  it  was  torturing. 

Johnstone,  too,  was  suffering  badly,  he 
having  been  burned  about  his  arms  and 
hands ; but  as  Eric  could  scarcely  stagger 
along,  he  insisted  upon  taking  the  little  one, 
in  spite  of  his  pain.  She  was  wonderfully 
unharmed,  and  lay  in  his  arms,  pale  and 
bewildered,  but  without  making  any  noise. 

Suddenly  a hand  grasped  Eric’s  shoulder, 
and  a rough,  kind  voice  said,  — 

w Here  you  are  ! Stop.  I say,  Mr.  Jon- 


son 


40 


johnstone’s  farm. 


Eric  looked  up  in  angry  surprise ; but  see 
ing  Johnstone  turn  towards  the  stranger,  he 
did  not  try  to  shake  off  his  detaining  hand, 
as  he  at  first  intended  doing. 

Mr.  Leonard,  for  it  was  he,  beckoning 
to  Johnstone  again,  led  the  way,  still  grasp- 
ing Eric’s  jacket,  to  a corner  grocery. 

Johnstone  followed  them,  and  when  he 
entered,  Mr.  Leonard  closed  and  fastened  the 
door,  thus  keeping  out  the  too  officious  crowd. 

" I’ve  got  my  team  here,  an’ll  take  yer 
home,”  said  he,  kindly ; " but  first  this  chap’s 
hands  must  be  attended  to : an’  your’n,  too,” 
he  added,  with  a glance  at  Johnstone’s, 
" the’r  all  bleedinY’ 

Then  turning  to  the  gaping  clerk,  he  con- 
tinued, — 

"Here,  you,  Jim;  look  lively!  bring  up 
two  or  three  pertaters.  That’s  the  remedy. 
Nater’s  own.  You  git  down,  pussy;”  — 
this  was  to  the  child,  in  the  tenderest  tone, 
as  he  took  her  from  Johnstone’s  aching  arms 
and  set  her  on  the  floor. 


me.  Leonard’s  remedy.  41 


The  little  thing  stood  quietly  enough, 
grasping  Johnstone’s  coat,  and  looking  won- 
deringly  up  into  the  stranger’s  face,  with  a 
wistful  gleam  in  her  dark  eyes,  as  if  trying 
to  comprehend  why  she  was  in  such  a 
strange  place,  with  no  familiar  face  at  hand. 

The  young  man,  addressed  as  Jim,  dove 
down  through  a trap-door  into  the  cellar, 
and  quickly  reappeared  with  the  potatoes 
Mr.  Leonard  had  ordered,  by  which  time 
Johnstone,  having  found  his  voice,  asked  if 
he  and  Eric  were  expected  to  eat  them  raw. 

" Yer  jest  wait  a bit,  Mr.  Jonson,”  the 
farmer  replied.  " I used  ter  belong  to  a fire 
company  oncst,  an’  I know  what’ll  take  the 
smart  out.” 

He  had  drawn  a jackknife  from  his 
pocket,  cut  one  of  the  potatoes  in  halves, 
and  scraping  off  some  of  the  white,  juicy 
pulp,  applied  it  to  Eric’s  most  painful 
wound. 

"There  ! ” said  he,  "how  does  that  feel?” 

" O,  thank  you  ! ” cried  Eric  ; for  the  in- 


42 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


stant  the  soft,  cool  pulp  touched  his  hand  he 
experienced  a feeling  of  great  relief  from  it. 
"Try  it,  Mr.  Johnstone;  it  takes  the  pain 
out  instantly.  I’ve  always  thought  it  was 
an  old  woman’s  notion  ; and  if  it  is,  I’ll  never 
sneer  at  them  again.” 

"It’s  a sight  better’n  any  of  them  quack 
liniments  the  pedlers  brings  round,”  com- 
mented Mr.  Leonard,  slicing  and  scraping, 
and  applying  his  soothing  balm  with  great 
energy,  until  both  his  patients  were  suffi- 
ciently bedaubed  with  the  white  paste  ; " an’ 
as  for  bein’ an 'old  woman’s  notion,’ I sus- 
pect mostly  all  the  remedies  we  know  of  is.” 
"It  certainly  is  more  effective  than  any- 
thing I ever  tried,”  said  Johnstone;  "and 
now  that  we  feel  so  much  better,  suppose 
you  complete  your  good  work  by  getting  us 
home,  Mr.  Leonard?” 

"That’s  so!”  said  the  westerner,  with  a 
chuckle  ; "p’raps  that’s  the  best  remedy,  too. 
That  little  miss  I took  up  was  frettin’  dread- 
ful for  the  lad,  an’  somebody  else  looked 


eric’s  prayer. 


43 


kinder  worried.  Come,  pussy,  I’ll  carry  you 
out.  The  horses  are  back  of  the  shop,  Mr. 
Jonson  ; yer’ll  have  to  come  out  this  way  ; ” 
and  he  started  for  the  back  door,  with  little 
May  in  his  arms. 

"Where’s  my  scorched  cap? ’’cried  Eric, 
attempting  a feeble  pun.  "Here  it  is.  Wasn’t 
he  just  jolly,  Mr.  Johnstone,  to  think  of 
those  potatoes  ? and  isn’t  that  baby  a beauty  ? 
She’s  got  the  loveliest  hair  and  eyes  I ever 
saw.  I’m  so  glad  she  did  not  get  burned  ! ” 

"Owing  to  your  bravery,  Eric,”  said 
Johnstone. 

"I  should  think  so  l ” cried  Eric,  his  eyes 
kindling  and  flashing.  "I  should  think  so, 
when  you  saved  us  both.  I can  never  thank 
you,  Mr.  Johnstone;  but  in  all  my  life  I 
never  can  forget  how  you  faced  death  to-day. 
When  I hung  there  on  the  ledge  with  that 
helpless  baby,  and  saw  you  take  that  flying 
leap  through  the  air,  I prayed  as  I never 
prayed  before.  You  did,  too;  I saw  it  in 
your  face.  And  when  you  gained  a hold 


44 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


beside  me,  there  was  a glad  thanksgiving  in 
my  heart,  though  I could  not  speak  a word. 
You  are  the  bravest  man  that  ever  lived  ! ” 

"I  only  followed  a good  example,  Eric,” 
said  Johnstone,  quietly;  "and  after  all,  our 
efforts  woul^  have  been  vain,  had  not  the 
Lord  protected  us.” 

" I’m  afraid  that  baby’s  goin’  to  cry,”  said 
Mr.  Leonard,  nervously,  thrusting  his  head 
in  at  the  door.  " She’s  kinder  curlin’  up 
her  lip,  an’  lookin’  pitiful.  I wish  you’d 
come  along.” 

So  Johnstone  and  Eric  hurried  out,  and 
into  Mr.  Leonard’s  carriage. 

The  baby  did  not  cry  ; she  laughed  aloud, 
displaying  charming  dimples  in  her  cheeks, 
and  calling  out,  — 

" May’s  doing  ride ; dood  by,  mamma.” 
And  then  she  clapped  her  chubby  hands, 
cried,  "Pitty,  pitty  pony!”  to  the  horses, 
and  seemed  beside  herself  with  glee. 

"Poor  baby!”  said  Johnstone  pityingly, 
" she  does  not  know  the  terrible  danger  she 


LULU  MAY. 


45 


lias  been  in,  nor  the  great  loss  it  has  brought 
her.” 

The  child  looked  up  in  his  face  with  the 
old  puzzled  expression  again,  and  said  decid- 
edly, — 

" No,  no,  man  ; not  poor  bal^.  Name’s 
Lulu  May  Many  on.  Mamma  tails  ’er  Lulu 
May.” 

" We’ll  call  you  Lulu  May,  too,”  said 
Eric,  pleasantly  trying  to  make  the  child 
happy.  " You  are  going  to  live  with  us.  Do 
you  like  that  ? ” 

T?,Es,”  said  little  Lulu  May,  fpI  lub  it.” 

"I  love  you,  you  dear  little  thing  ! ” cried 
Johnstone,  catching  her  up,  and  burying  his 
face  in  her  chubby  neck,  while  the  other  two 
laughed  at  her  funny  sayings.  WI  wonder  if 
you’ve  got  a papa  ? ” 

"’Es,”  said  the  child,  while  Eric  looked 
dismayed  ; " dot  puppy  ; says  ' bow-wow- 
wow  ! ’ ” and  here  she  made  up  such  a funny 
little  face  that  Eric  nearly  fell  out  of  the  car- 
riage, he  laughed  so  at  her;  while  she,  not 


46 


johnstone’s  farm. 


understanding  the  cause  of  his  mirth,  but 
evidently  supposing  she  must  laugh  too, 
poked  her  little  face  round  into  Eric’s,  and 
gave  a shout  of  glee,  as  if  to  say,  " Isn’t  this 
fun?” 

" Not  a puppy,  Lulu  May  ; a father,”  ex- 
plained Johnstone. 

"Farder?”  said  the  little  one,  puzzled 
again ; then  as  if  a bright  thought  struck 
her,  she  inquired  quickly,  " farder  off?  ” 
throwing  out  her  little  hands  in  graceful 
gesture. 

" O,  dear  ! O,  dear  ! ” cried  Eric,  laughing 
again;  "Lulu  May,  you’re  the  funniest  baby 
I ever  saw  in  my  life.” 

" Am  I ? ” said  Lulu  May,  with  a compla- 
cent smile. 

A little  sharp  bark  sounded  close  to  the 
carriage,  and  looking  out,  Eric  saw  a beauti- 
ful King  Charles  spaniel,  with  long,  silky 
hair  and  pleading  eyes,  trotting  alongside, 
and  looking  wistfully  into  the  carriage. 

" What  a pretty  little  dog ! ” he  cried ; 


REX. 


47 


"is  it  yours,  Mr.  Leonard?  he  wants  to 
get  in.” 

"No,”  began  Mr.  Leonard,  in  his  slow 
way,  and  was  interrupted  by  a delighted 
scream  from  the  child,  who  nearly  sprang 
from  Johnstone’s  arms,  trying  to  get  at  the 
dog. 

"Tex,  Tex!  it’s  my  ’ittlc  doggie;  my 
puppy,  my  Tex,”  she  cried. 

" Whoa  ! ” said  Mr.  Leonard,  drawing  in 
his  horses,  and  getting  out ; then  he  picked 
up  the  faithful  dog,  and  put  him  into  the 
carriage,  where  Lulu  May  hugged  him  and 
kissed  him,  and  jabbered  over  him  all  the 
way  to  Johnstone’s  Farm,  taking  no  notice 
of  anything  else  ; and  the  little  creature  in 
return  licked  her  hands  and  face,  and  was 
full  of  grateful  happiness. 


48 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

LULU  MAY’S  NEW  HOME. 

MARION,  from  her  post  on  the  piazza, 
saw  Mr.  Leonard’s  bay  horses  com- 
ing down  from  Omaha.  "I  wonder,”  she 
said  to  herself,  w if  he  went  back  for  Murray 
and  Eric.  I do  hope  they  are  with  him.” 

On  came  the  horses,  and,  yes,  they  were 
turning  in  at  the  gate,  Eric  waving  his  hat, 
and  shouting  something,  she  could  not  tell 
what. 

Marion  knew  nothing  of  the  danger  they 
had  been  in  of  course ; but  notwithstanding, 
a little  thrill  of  gratitude  went  through  her 
heart,  and  she  was  greatly  relieved  to  have 
them  safe  at  home. 

Before  the  carriage  reached  the  door,  Eric 


E R I C’s  TREASURE. 


49 


sprang  out,  and  rushed  forward,  exclaim- 
ing* — 

"Marion,  my  dear  Marion,  you’ll  never 
guess  what  I have  brought  you  ! ” 

"My  goodness,  Eric!”  was  her  greeting. 
"What  have  you  done  to  your  hair.  And 
your  face  and  hands  are  all  blistered  and 
scarred,  and  your  clothes  — ” 

"Never  mind,  Marion;  I’m  safe,  and  so’s 
Mr.  Johnstone,  and  our  burns  don’t  hurt  a 
bit.” 

"Burned!  O,  Eric,  you  didn’t  go  into 
danger,  did  you?”  cried  Marion,  in  alarm. 

" He  only  risked  his  life  to  save  another’s, 
Miss  Jonson;  that’s  all,”  put  in  Mr.  Leon- 
ard, with  a gleam  of  pride  and  admiration  in 
his  eye  there  was  no  mistaking.  " An’  this 
ere  husband  o’  your’n,  at  the  risk  o’  his’n, 
saved  ’em  both.” 

"Murray  ! ’’  cried  Marion,  in  real  distress, 
clinging  around  her  husband’s  neck.  "How 
could  you  endanger  your  life?  O,  but  I am 
4 


50  JOHNS  T one's  FARM. 

so  proud  of  you  ! ” she  added,  contradicting 
her  own  words  ; " and  Eric,  too  ! ” 

Mr.  Leonard  had  lifted  Lulu  May  from 
the  carriage,  and  little  Rex  came  tumbling 
and  yelping  out  after  her ; but  Marion  saw 
and  heard  nothing  but  Murray,  till  some- 
thing tugged  her  dress,  and  a sweet  silvery 
voice  exclaimed,  — 

"I’s  Lulu  May  Many  on.  Fs  turn  to  lib 
here.  So’s  Tex.” 

Marion  stooped  to  caress  the  beautiful 
child,  and  Johnstone  told  her  of  the  mother’s 
sad  fate.  " You  poor,  little  darling  ! ” mur- 
mured Marion,  "111  be  your  mamma.” 

This  was  ill  advised. 

" Where  is  mamma  ? ” asked  Lulu  May, 
reminded  ; "is  her  tummin?  ” 

"See,  here!”  cried  Marion,  anxious  to 
divert  her  ; " pretty,  pretty  doggie  : ” and  she 
began  making  much  of  Rex. 

But  Lulu  May  was  not  to  be  appeased. 

"No,  no:  I want  my  mamma!  I want 
my  own  mamma  ! ” she  said  again  and  again, 


LULU  may’s  grief.  51 

and  the  pearly  tear-drops  rained  down  thick 
and  fast. 

"Listen,  my  darling,”  said  Marion,  ten- 
derly, kneeling  beside  her,  and  drawing  the 
weeping  child  to  her,  " mamma  has  gone  to 
God.” 

"To  God  in  heaven?”  asked  the  child, 
reverentially,  looking  up  into  the  clear  blue 
sky. 

" Yes,  my  darling;  and  if  you  are  a good 
little  girl,  God  will  take  you  to  heaven,  to 
live  with  dear  mamma,  by  and  by.” 

The  baby  stood  gazing  upwards  into  the 
blue  sky,  where  the  beautiful  fleecy  clouds 
were  floating,  lined  with  gold  and  silver,  and 
tinged  with  rainbow  hues  from  the  cloud- 
banks of  crimson  and  orange  which  were 
slowly  sinking,  in  sunset  glory,  behind  the 
hills  of  Omaha. 

No  doubt  she  thought  heaven  a gloriously 
beautiful  place  ; and,  perhaps,  that  her  moth- 
er was  cruel  to  go  there  without  her:  for, 
presently,  with  a pathetic  little  sigh,  she 


52  johnstone’s  farm. 

turned  her  gaze  earthward,  and  taking  Mar- 
ion’s  hand,  followed  her  into  the  house; 
and  that  night,  and  ever  afterwards,  when 
saying,  her  "Now  I lay  me,”  at  Marion’s 
knee,  she  added,  of  her  own  accord,  "Please, 
dear  Lord,  bless  little  Lulu  May.  Make  her 
a dood  child,  and  take  her  to  mamma  in 
heaven  ! ” 

All  the  rest  of  that  summer  afternoon  and 
evening, — and  short  enough  it  seemed, — 
there  was  a great  stir  and  commotion  at 
Johnstone’s  Farm. 

In  the  first  place,  there  were  the  wounded 
hands  to  be  tenderly  bound  in  soft,  cool  lint, 
and  another  application  of  Mr.  Leonard’s 
remedy  was  made  to  Eric’s  face.  Lulu  May 
had  to  be  introduced  to  her  new  home,  and 
little  Rex  felt  himself  obliged  to  investigate 
everything  for  his  young  mistress’s  sake. 

Then  Marion  insisted  that  Mr.  Leonard 
should  let  Matty’s  father  take  his  horses  in 
charge,  and  remain  with  them  through  the 


evening. 


HONORABLE  SCARS. 


53 


Nettie,  aroused  by  the  unusual  noises, 
woke  from  her  nap,  and  learned  the  story 
of  the  fire,  Eric’s  and  Johnstone’s  bravery, 
and  Lulu  May’s  rescue,  with  mingled  feelings 
of  pride  and  anxiety.  She  won  the  little 
stranger’s  heart  at  once,  and  Rex’s  too.  He 
divided  his  attentions  betwreen  her  and  his 
baby  mistress. 

Eric  was  rather  dismayed  on  catching  a 
glimpse  of  himself  in  the  mirror,  to  find  that, 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  scraggy 
curls,  his  hair  was  burned  off.  He  whispered 
to  Marion,  and  they  both  disappeared;  by 
and  by  they  came  back,  and  Eric’s  singed 
hair  was  cropped  close  to  his  head. 

The  others  all  exclaimed,  and  Nettie  nearly 
cried. 

"I  can’t  imagine  you  without  your  curly 
head,  Eric,”  said  she;  "and  what  would 
mamma  say?  she  thought  so  much  of  them.” 

" Honorable  scars,  Nettie,  dear,”  suggested 
Marion,  flitting  from  one  to  another,  but 
hovering  oftenest  around  Johnstone,  and 


54  Johnstone’s  farm. 

looking  extremely  happy,  and  very  proud  of 
her  two  heroes. 

Visitors  now  began  coming  in,  to  hear  the 
particulars  and  offer  their  congratulations. 
All  were  loud  in  their  praises  of  the  noble 
man  and  the  brave  lad  who  had  displayed 
such  unflinching  courage  at  the  fire.  And 
all  pitied  the  poor  little  child,  who  laughed 
and  chatted  in  innocent  mirth,  too  young  to 
be  told  of  her  sad  loss. 

Many  of  the  people  who  came  to  the  house 
knew  the  poor  woman’s  history.  She  had 
come  to  Omaha  two  years  before,  with  the 
child,  then  an  infant,  and  renting  a room  in 
the  tenement-house,  had  lived  there  ever 
since.  She  was  only  known  as  Mrs.  Man- 
yon.  She  had  made  no  acquaintances,  and 
seemed  to  have  no  friends,  and  all  were  busy- 
ing themselves  with  wondering  what  was  to 
become  of  the  child. 

”1  shall  keep  her,”  said  Johnstone,  de- 
cidedly, in  reply  to  an  appealing  glance  from 
Eric.  " Mrs.  Johnstone  and  I will  adopt 


A GREAT  REWARD. 


55 


her,  and,  unless  her  father,  or  some  near 
relative,  appears  to  claim  her,  she  will  always 
be  to  us  as  our  own  child.” 

Then,  instead  of  saying,  " Poor  little 
thing ! ” all  exclaimed  how  fortunate  the 
baby  was  to  have  such  kind  protectors,  and 
such  a beautiful  home. 

One  old  gentleman,  who  had  been  most 
earnest  in  offering  a reward  for  the  baby’s 
salvation  from  the  burning  house,  actually 
walked  out  to  Johnstone’s  Farm  to  pay  Eric 
the  money — five  hundred  dollars. 

" I cannot  take  a cent  of  it,  sir,”  expostu- 
lated the  lad.  I don’t  want  to  be  paid  for 
doing  right.  I didn’t  know  you  offered  the 
money,  and  wouldn’t  have  gone  for  that , at 
any  rate.  It  was  the  baby’s  name  that  first 
stirred  me,  though  I couldn’t  have  stood  and 
seen  her  burn  up,  anyway.  But  I’ve  a little 
sister  May  at  home,  and  I only  did  for  this 
May  what  I would  have  wanted  any  one  to 
do  for  my  sister.  Money  ? I couldn’t  touch 


56  Johnstone’s  farm. 

it and  his  honest  eyes  flashed  and  his  face 
reddened  beneath  its  scars  and  patches. 

"Well,”  said  the  old  gentleman,  "what- 
ever you  think  about  it,  the  five  hundred 
dollars  belong  to  you.  If  you  are  honest, 
so  am  I.  I offered  the  sum  to  whoever 
saved  the  child  ; you  did,  and  it  is  yours.” 
"Then,”  said  Eric,  "let  me  give  it  to  the 
poor  people  who  lost  so  much  by  the  fire.” 

" Do  as  you  please  with  it,”  said  the  other, 
making  no  further  comment,  but  inwardly 
resolving  to  keep  watch  over  this  noble  lad, 
and,  if  he  ever  needed  help,  to  render  it. 

Eric  said  he  would  prefer,  if  the  gentle- 
man pleased,  to  have  him  retain  the  money, 
and  pay  it  out,  as  cases  were  brought  to  his 
notice,  to  those  who  most  needed  it.  But 
Mr.  Graham,  the  gentleman,  refused  to  re- 
tain it,  and  proposed  that  Johnstone  and 
Mr.  Leonard  should  take  charge  of  the  sum 
for  Eric,  paying  it  out  as  he  should  direct. 
This  was  the  agreement  finally. 

By  and  by  the  " the  tiresome  people,” 


MYSTERIOUS  RELATIONS.  57 


as  Nettie  called  them,  went  home.  Mr. 
Leonard’s  horses  were  brought  round,  and 
he  said,  " Good  night ! ” and  drove  away. 

Lulu  May  declared  she  was  " seepy,”  and 
Nettie  was  sure  they  must  all  be. 

Johnstone  read  prayers,  and  then,  after 
singing  an  evening  hymn,  Marion  took  the 
baby  into  Nettie’s  room  for  the  night,  and 
Nettie  followed  them. 

While  undressing  the  child  she  noticed  an 
old-fashioned  locket  hung  around  her  neck, 
containing  a picture  of  a beautiful  woman, 
and  marked  with  a date  of  years  long  gone  by. 

■'Who  is  it,  Lulu  May?”  she  asked, 
gazing  with  interest  upon  the  lovely  face,  so 
like  the  child’s,  in  spite  of  the  difference  of 
years.  " Who  is  it?  ” 

" Gram  gram.” 

Who,  darling?  ” 

"Gramgrum,”  persisted  the  little  one. 

" And  who  gave  it  to  you,  dear?” 

" Gramfrum.” 


58 


johnstone’s  farm. 


"O,  baby,  what  do  you  mean?”  cried 
Nettie,  laughing. 

7 o o 

" Did,”  said  the  child,  decidedly.  w Gram- 
grum  an’  gramfrum.  Mamma  told  ’er.” 

" I guess  I know  what  she  means, 
Marion,”  said  Nettie,  quickly.  Grand- 
mother and  grandfather  — is  that  it,  baby?” 

" ’Es,”  said  Lulu  May,  triumphantly; 
" aramffrum  an’  gramfrum  — said  so.” 

c'  O 

" That  is  something  to  know,”  said  Marion, 
thoughtfully.  WI  must  take  care  of  that 
locket  for  her.  It  may  lead  to  the  dis- 
covery of  her  relations.” 

After  saying  her  little  prayer,  the  sweet 
child  was  put  to  bed,  and  little  Rex  jumped 
up  and  nestled  at  her  feet. 

Marion  told  Johnstone  about  the  locket, 
and  he  said  they  would  put  an  advertisement 
in  the  western  and  New  York  papers. 

Then  all  said,  " Good  night ! ” and  soon 
there  was  the  quiet  of  deep  sleep  at  John- 
stone’s Farm. 

Only  little  Rex  was  awake  and  watchful. 


rex’s  watch. 


59 


But  Lulu  May’s  sweet  rest  and  Nettie’s 
low,  soft-breathing  sleep  soon  lulled  him 
into  drowsy  slumbers ; or  perhaps  the  faith- 
ful little  guardian  knew  that  in  such  deep, 
peaceful  rest  was  sure  security. 


60 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


CHAPTER  y. 

PLEASANT  SURPRISES. 

HE  next  morning,  long  before  they 


were  up,  Mr.  Leonard  drove  his 
little  son’s  cherished  pony  over  to  Johnstone’s 
Farm,  and  left  him  at  the  stable,  dressed  and 
all  ready  for  service,  in  a bright,  new  bridle 
and  side-saddle.  Accompanying  the  pony 
was  a note  for  Johnstone,  begging  him  to 
keep  the  little  creature  for  Nettie’s  use  during 
the  remainder  of  her  visit  at  the  West. 

" Lance  is  perfectly  safe,  and  gentle  as  a 
lamb,”  wrote  Mr.  Leonard.  " There  can  be 
no  possible  objection  to  Miss  Nettie’s  riding 
him  in  company  or  alone  at  any  time.  My 
little  Bertie  ” (the  child  who  was  dead) 
" used  to  ride  him  constantly,  and  he  was 


LANCE. 


61 


but  four  years  old.  We  trusted  the  child 
with  the  horse ; for  Bertie  was  too^young  for 
strength  or  wisdom,  of  course.” 

Johnstone  and  Marion  were  charmed  by 
the  rough  farmers  kindness  of  heart.  And 
Nettie  was  delighted  and  touched,  too,  for 
she  understood  something  of  how  hard  it 
must  be  for  Mr.  Leonard  to  see  another 
child  riding  the  pony  that  had  been  the 
idolized  companion  of  the  handsome,  bright- 
faced, curly-haired,  loving  Bertie. 

" Nakona,”  said  Johnstone  to  Matty’s 
father,  a tall,  powerful-looking  Indian,"  see 
that  the  Canadian  ponies  and  Fleetfoot  and 
Lady  Nell  are  saddled  and  brought  round  to 
the  door  wrhile  we  are  at  breakfast.  And  be 
sure  that  they  have  an  f extra  shine,’  that  this 
little  glossy  Shetland  may  not  outvie  them 
all.” 

Nakona  saw  that  these  orders  were  faith- 
fully carried  out,  standing  over  Mike  and 
encouraging  him  to  rub  Johnstone’s  four 
horses  down  with  a will. 


62 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


At  the  breakfast  table,  before  the  horses 
came  up,  they  had  quite  a pleasant  sur- 
prise, for  who  should  walk  in  but  Allan 
Kamsdell. 

" Hark ! ” cried  Nettie,  who  was  seated 
near  the  veranda.  " Marion,  I certainly 
heard  Allan’s  step.” 

" Why,  no,”  said  Marion;  "how  could 
you  ? ” 

" Well  enough,”  said  Eric,  answering, 
" for  here  he  is.” 

And  in  walked  Allan. 

" How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Johnstone?”  said 
he,  wajking  straight  up  to  Marion,  hat  in 
hand,  and  then  greeting  Johnstone,  Nettie, 
and  Eric.  " And  who  is  this  young  lady  ? ” 
he  continued,  pausing  before  Lulu  May, 
who  sat  contentedly  munching  a slice  of 
bread  and  butter. 

"That  is  Lulu  May  Johnstone,  our 
adopted  daughter,”  said  Marion,  in  reply. 
"Baby,  shake  hands  with  Allan.” 

" Is  you  Annan  ?”  inquired  the  little  one, 


ALLAN’S  ARRIVAL. 


03 


peeping  with  her  large  dark  eyes  from  be- 
hind Marion’s  shoulder. 

"Yes,”  replied  Allan.  "Shake  hands, 
Lulu,  arid  let’s  be  friends.” 

So  Lulu  May  shyly  extended  one  little  fat 
hand,  while  the  other  grasped  her  bread  and 
butter,  as  if’  she  feared  it  was  the  last  slice 
she  would  ever  have. 

"I  like  ’ou,”  she  said,  in  her  pretty  de- 
cided way  ; and  from  that  moment  she  and 
Allan  were  fast  friends. 

"But,  Allan,”  cried  Nettie,  "how  came 
you  here  to-day  ? You  were  to  stay  at  Des 
Moines  a week,  I thought.” 

"That  was  the  plan,”  said  Allan;  "but 
just  after  I reached  my  uncle’s,  he  received 
an  important  letter,  demanding  his  presence 
at  an  eastern  town,  where  a firm,  in  which 
he  was  largely  interested,  had  foiled.  He 
felt  obliged  to  go,  and  thought  I wouldn’t 
enjoy  myself  much  at  Des  Moines  with- 
out him.  So  he  sent  me  on  here  last 
night. 


64 


johnstone’s  farm. 


"Last  night?”  said  Johnstone  ; " why  did 
you  not  come  here  at  once,  then?” 

"The  train  was  late,  and  I didn’t  like  to 
disturb  you.’’ 

"Well,  sit  down  now  and  have  some 
breakfast,”  suggested  Marion.  "Murray, 
you  can  continue  your  catechism  when  the 
child  has  had  something  to  eat.” 

" Thank  you,  Mrs.  Johnstone,”  said  Allan. 
" I was  just  thinking  how  nice  those  cakes 
looked.  I staid  at  the  hotel  last  night, 
and  — did  you  know  there  was  a great  fire 
in  Omaha  yesterday?” 

" I should  think  so  ! ” cried  Nettie  ; " there 
is  where  Lulu  May  came  from.”  And  then, 
in  her  own  animated  way,  she  gave  Allan  a 
glowing  account  of  the  fire,  lauding  John- 
stone and  Eric  as  she  thought  they  de- 
served. 

"Well,  I declare  !”  cried  Allan,  excited- 
ly; "so  it  was  you,  after  all,  Eric,  they 
were  praising  so,  all  over  the  town.  The 
people  were  crazy  over  you.  And  you,  Mr. 


DISCUSSING  MR.  GRAHAM.  65 


Johnstone.  0,  dear ! why  wasn’t  I in 
Omaha?” 

" Indeed,  Allan,”  said  Marion,  laughing, 
"two  were  enough  for  me  to  feel  anxious 
about ; and  those  two  really  did  all  that  could 
be  done.” 

"And  just  think,  Allan,”  put  in  Nettie, 
" a Mr.  Graham  wanted  to  pay  Eric  five 
hundred  dollars  ; to  pay  him,  Allan  ! ” 

"The  donkey!” 

The  ineffable  scorn  that  was  thrown  into 
Nettie’s  and  Allan’s  comment  upon  his  well- 
meant  action  would  have  quenched  Mr. 
Graham. 

"Eric  wouldn’t  take  it,  of  course,”  con- 
tinued Nettie,  proudly;  "and  as  Mr.  Graham 
insisted,  Eric  turned  it  over  to  the  poor  peo- 
ple who  lived  in  the  house  that  was  burned.” 

"Nettie,  dear,”  said  Marion,  softly,  in- 
terrupting Allan’s  expression  of  satisfaction, 
"you  are  doing  Mr.  Graham  great  injustice. 
He  is  very  kind,  and  benevolent,  and  sincere- 
ly honest.  At.  the  fire  he  offered  the  re- 
5 


66 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


ward  ; and  whether  Eric  heard  him  or  not, 
made  no  difference  in  the  ownership  of  the 
money  : having  saved  our  baby,  it  was  his. 
You,  and  Eric,  and  Allan  have  no  idea  of 
the  value  of  money ; so  you  do  not  under- 
stand Mr.  Graham’s  generosity.  He  did  not 
wish  to  pay  Eric,  but  to  redeem  his  own 
word,  and,  in  the  first  place,  to  save  the 
child’s  life.” 

"But  don’t  you  think  Eric  was  right  not  to 
keep  the  money?”  inquired  Allan. 

"Certainly,”  said  Marion:  "he  did  not 
need  it,  and  the  poor  people  did.  I approve 
of  his  course  entirely.” 

"It  all  lies  in  a nutshell,  Nettie,  my  dear,” 
said  Johnstone.  "You  are  not  to  speak  con- 
temptuously of  Mr.  Graham’s  gift,  but  to 
admire  his  generosity  and  Eric’s.” 

"And  your  bravery  ! ” put  in  all  three  at 
once. 

"I  have  nothing  more  to  say,”  Johnstone 
replied,  actually  blushing. 

" And  that  is  the  best  plan  for  all  of  us,” 


THE  SADDLE  HORSES.  67 


retorted  Marion  ; " otherwise  poor  Allan  will 
get  no  breakfast.” 

Allan  took  the  hint,  and  devoted  himself 
to  Katy’s  delicious  cakes  and  cream  biscuits, 
and  had  but  just  finished  his  repast,  when 
Nettie  exclaimed,  hearing  the  horses  brought 
round, — 

"Q,  dear!  somebody’s  coming.” 

"It  is  an  arrival,  I suspect,  you  will  not 
object  to,”  said  Johnstone,  rising  and  going 
out  upon  the  veranda. 

The  others  followed  him. 

"O,  Mr.  Johnstone!”  cried  Eric  and 
Allan  simultaneously ; and  their  faces  glowed 
and  their  eyes  danced  with  the  pleasure 
in  store  for  them.  For  if  there  is  anything 
a city  boy  does  love,  it  is  a horse,  and  the 
pleasure  of  riding  one. 

" What  is  it?  ” inquired  Nettie. 

"Saddle  horses,”  answered  Eric,  con- 
cisely. 

" Two  are  gray,  two  are  bay,  and  one  is 
jet  black ; and  that  one  bears  a young  lady’s 


68 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


side-saddle,  and  is  a gentle-looking,  shining, 
glossy  Shetland  pony,”  added  Allan.  . 

Nettie  stood  above  them,  leaning  eagerly 
forward,  her  dark  eyes  dilated,  her  face 
flushed  with  sudden  pleasure,  and  her  lips 
parted  with  such  an  expression  of  expectancy 
and  delight,  that  Johnstone  hastily  added,  — 
" Yes,  Nettie  ; the  pony  is  Mr.  Leonard’s, 
sent  over  for  your  especial  use  and  pleasure 
during  your  visit  here.” 

" O,  isn't  he  kind  ! ” cried  the  delighted 
child.  "Allan,  lead  me  down,  please,  and 
describe  him.” 

So  Allan,  to  whom  she  always  appealed, 
led  her  down  the  steps,  and  described  Lance 
so  fully  that  Nettie  knew  at  once  just  what  a 
little  beauty  he  was.  Nakona  stood  looking 
on,  with  folded  arms,  and  a grave  smile  of 
approval.  Presently  he  spoke. 

"Farmer  Leonard  has  dogs,  strong  and 
sure.  He  says  the  young  men  are  welcome 
to  hunt  with  them  for  the  prairie  hen.” 

"I  say,  Mr.  Johnstone,  isn’t  this  Mr. 


nakona’s  scorn.  69 

Leonard  just  perfectly  splendid?”  cried  Eric, 
in  a burst  of  wild  delight.  " Allan,  did  you 
ever  hear  of  such  glorious  times?  horses  to 
ride,  and  dogs  to  hunt  with,  and  no  end 
of  fun.” 

Nakona’s  eyes  sparkled  at  Eric’s  enthu- 
siasm. 

" I will  lead  you  to  the  prairie,”  said  he. 
"You  shall  learn  the  red  man’s  skill  in 
ridingr,  and  hunting:  more  than  birds.” 

"Ah,  Nakona,”  said  Johnstone,  laughing- 
ly, "you  will  make  them  crazy.  These  lads, 
fresh  from  a great  city,  to  go  hunting,  in- 
deed ! They  don’t  know  how  to  load  a gun, 
I’ll  engage.” 

o o 

" There  you  are  wrong,  Mr.  Johnstone. 
Papa  has  had  us  both  taught.  He  says  all 
boys  should  know  how  to  handle  fire-arms, 
and  thus  avoid  the  accidents  always  occur- 
ring. Allan  and  I have  both  taken  two 
quarters  in  a shooting-gallery,  and  both  of  us 
have  rifles  with  us.” 

Poor  Eric  ! Johnstone  laughed  aloud,  and 


70 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


Nakona  exclaiming,  in  indignant  scorn,  the 
two  words  "shooting  gallery,”  stalked  off; 
and  Eric  looked  foolish  enough,  as  a dim 
consciousness  began  to  dawn  upon  him,  that 
hitting  a fixed  wooden  target  might  be  essen- 
tially different  from  bringing  down  a flying 
bird. 

He  was  almost  angry  with  Johnstone  for 
laughing  at  him  ; but  remembering  the  other’s 
kindness  and  bravery,  he  only  said,  pleas- 
antly, — 

"Well;  I can  learn.  You  learned  once, 
yourself,  Mr.  Johnstone.” 

Meanwhile  Marion  had  told  the  delighted 
Nettie  that  her  mother  had  put  a new  riding 
habit  into  her  trunk,  and  going  in  to  find  it, 
there  was  not  only  the  dress,  but  a jockey 
hat,  gloves,  and  a silver-handled  whip. 

The  excited  child  quickly  arrayed  her- 
self, and  now  reappeared  with  Marion,  both 
dressed  for  a brisk,  morning  ride. 

" Eric,  isn’t  this  like  the  good  old  times  at 
Castle  Wernier,  with  Herbert  and  Adele?” 


THE  KIBE. 


71 


she  cried,  as  Johnstone  sprang  her  upon 
Lance’s  back,  gathered  her  reins,  and  ar- 
ranged her  dress. 

"‘Yes,”  answered  Eric;  "only  it’s  better, 
if  anything.  I’ll  hold  Lance  for  Nettie, 
Mr.  Johnstone.” 

But  Nakona  was  at  hand,  and  stood  by 
the  gentle  little  beast.  He  was  perfectly 
obedient,  and  Nettie  had  not  a particle  of 
fear.  Johnstone  put  Marion  upon  Lady 
Nell.  Eric  and  Allan  rushed  for  their  caps. 
Katy  beguiled  Lulu  May  into  her  pleasant 
kitchen  ; Nakona  and  Matty  stood  by  to  see 
them  start ; and  away  they  all  went,  Eric 
and  Marion  ahead,  and  Allan  and  Johnstone 
on  either  side  of  Nettie. 

Lance  fully  justified  his  master’s  praise. 
He  seemed  to  know  that  much  was  intrusted 
to  his  judgment,  for  a more  careful  pony 
never  lived.  He  was  swift  too,  and  Nettie 
declared  the  saddle  was  as  easy  as  a cradle. 

" Mr.  Johnstone,  I want  to  ride  round  and 


72 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


thank  dear,  kind  Mr.  Leonard,”  said  she-, 
"do  you  think  he  would  mind  it?” 

"I  think  he  would  be  pleased,”  replied 
Johnstone;  "and  as  it’s  the  proper  thing  to 
do,  we’ll  go  there  at  once.” 

Mr.  Leonard  was  overseeing  his  men  in 
some  field  work,  and  was  near  the  wall  by 
the  road,  as  the  party  came  in  sight. 

Nettie  was  riding  ahead  of  the  others  now, 
for  Lance  saw  his  master,  and  hurried  on. 
Sitting  erect  in  the  saddle,  her  face  flushed 
with  the  pleasant  exercise,  bright  and  pretty 
as  she  was,  Nettie  never  looked  so  bright 
and  pretty  before  as  when  she  rode  up  to 
thank  Mr.  Leonard  for  the  pony. 

"You  are  so  kind,  Mr.  Leonard,  and  I 
am  so  happy  ! ” 

That  was  all  she  could  say ; for  when 
he  called,  "Whoa,  Lance,”  and  the  pony 
stopped  before  him,  the  nice  little  speech  she 
had  prepared  melted  entirely  away  ; but  Mr. 
Leonard  was  quite  as  well  satisfied  as  if  her 


ABOUT  MR.  LEONARD. 


73 


thanks  had  been  as  long  as  the  President’s 
Message. 

"He  has  done  you  good,  and  I am  glad 
of  it,”  said  he;  "you  look  like  a different 
child.” 

"O,  I feel  so  much  better!  I do  enjoy 
riding ; and  Lance  is  such  a nice  pony  ! ” 
said  Nettie,  joyfully,  in  reply. 

The  others  now  came  up,  all  praising  proud 
little  Lance,  who  curved  his  neck  and  raised 
his  pretty  head  still  higher,  as  if  he  knew 
himself  to  be  the  object  of  the  general 
admiration. 

Then  they  continued  their  brisk,  breezy 
ride,  and  good  Farmer  Leonard  went  back 
to  his  work  of  giving  directions  to  his  men ; 
but  all  day  long,  between  himself  and  his 
laborers,  there  came  visions  of  a trim  little 
figure,  in  a dark  riding  habit,  a bright,  eager 
face  uplifted  to  his  own,  and  a sweet  voice, 
saying,  "You  are  so  kind,  and  I am  so 
happy ! ” 

And  in  the  evening,  instead  of  taking  his 


74 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


pipe  and  going  tb  the  grocery  in  Omaha,  — . 
as  was  his  custom, — Mr.  Leonard  staid  at 
home  and  read  ; and  a few  evenings  after,  he 
went  to  Johnstone’s  Farm,  and  astonished 
Marion  by  calling  her  Mrs.  Johnstone,  by 
using  correct  grammar,  and  by  displaying  a 
fund  of  information  upon  every  topic  sug- 
gested in  the  conversation. 

The  truth  was,  that  Mr.  Leonard  was 
really  an  educated  man,  whom  misfortune 
and  disaster  had  followed  persistently  all  his 
life.  Against  them  he  had  struggled  bravely 
until  the  time  of  his  wife’s  and  Bertie’s 
death.  Then,  completely  discouraged,  he 
resigned  himself  to  careless  neglect,  and 
seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  assuming  gross 
ignorance  about  everything  but  common 
farming.  Strange  to  say,  with  this  freak  of 
his,  Fortune  turned  her  wheel  in  his  favor, 
and  he  was  rapidly  becoming  a prosperous 
former  ; and  with  his  good  fortune  came  a 
sense  of  shame  for  the  condition  into  which 
he  had  allowed  himself  to  fall.  Probably 


Nettie’s  influence. 


75 


his  strange  course  was  the  result  of  a disease 
of  the  mind  — a sort  of  monomania,  into 
which  the  sudden  death  of  his  wife  and  child 
had  thrown  him  ; and  he  was  bejnnnin^  to 
recover  from  it  when  the  children  went  to 
Omaha. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Nettie’s  brave  strug- 
gling with  gloomy  views  of  her  blindness, 
the  sweetness  with  which  she  bore  her  trial, 
and  her  evident  resolve  to  make  the  best  of 
everything,  and  to  be  happy  and  contented 
with  the  blessings  she  possessed,  made  a 
strong  impression  upon  Mr.  Leonard,  arous- 
ing him  from  his  lethargy,  and  spurring  him 
on  to  regain  his  lost  manhood. 

Of  all  this,  Johnstone  and  Marion  had  no 
idea.  They  only  thought  their  neighbor 
very  eccentric.  And  as  for  the  children,  they 
thought  Mr.  Leonard  the  nicest,  kindest 
man  they  had  ever  known. 


76 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OUT  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 

ONE  morning  there  was  a great  commo- 
tion at  Johnstone’s  Farm. 

Eric  and  Allan  were  actually  "going  hunt- 
ing.” Mr.  Leonard  had  sent  word  to  them 
that  the  grouse  had  been  seen  in  large  flocks, 
and  they  might  take  the  dogs  and  go  for 
them.  But,  alas  ! he  could  not  leave  the 
farm,  Nakona  was  away,  and  Johnstone  con- 
fessed himself  to  be  no  hunter. 

The  poor  boys  were  nearly  wild  with  ex- 
citement. Nakona  had  been  teaching  them 
to  shoot  with  something  of  his  own  skill ; 
they  were  ripe  for  an  adventure,  and  de- 
clared it  would  be  too  cruel  in  Johnstone  to 
refuse  to  let  them  go.  Nettie  pleaded  for 
them,  too. 


matty?s  jealousy. 


77 


"Papa  would  trust  Eric,  I am  sure,”  said 
she,  "and  Allan  is  the  most  careful  boy  in 
the  world.” 

This  and  the  eager,  pleading  eyes  of  the 
two  lads  decided  Johnstone  against  his 
better  judgment.  He  yielded  to  their  en- 
treaties, and  gave  the  desired  permission. 
Matty  was  to  go  with  them  to  the  edge  of 
the  town,  and  point  out  the  best  route  to  the 
prairie.  Having  issued  this  order,  John- 
stone went  off  to  the  city  to  give  some  direc- 
tions about  a headstone  for  Lulu  May’s  poor 
mother.  Her  body  had  been  found,  and 
buried  in  the  Omaha  cemetery  with  proper 
funeral  rites,  Johnstone  and  his  family  at- 
tending ; and  now  he  was  having  a headstone 
erected  over  her  grave,  marked  simply  Mrs . 
Manyon , with  the  age  and  date.  As  the 
stone  was  to  be  set  immediately,  and  he  de- 
sired to  oversee  it,  he  left  the  boys  to  little 
Matty’s  guidance.  But  when  he  was  gone 
Matty  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  and  no 
amount  of  searching,  it  seemed,  would  bring 


78 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


him  to  light.  The  boys  screamed  themselves 
hoarse  calling  him,  and  then  nearly  cried 
with  vexation  at  the  idea  of  losing  their 
sport  by  the  little  Indian’s  pranks. 

"Where  can  he  be?”  said  Marion,  look- 
ing into  every  imaginable  place  where  the 
little  rascal  might  possibly  be  in  hiding ; but 
not  a sign  of  him  was  to  be  seen. 

Katy  protested  against  his  " imperdunce,” 
and  joined  in  the  search,  and  Mike,  threat- 
' ening  eternal  vengeance  against  "the  little 
scallywag”  if  he  "got  a hold  on  him,”  sent 
his  stentorian  voice  over  the  fields  in  every 
direction.  Meanwhile  Miss  Lulu  May 
looked  on,  commenting  sotto  voce , — 

"Um  ! won’t  find  ’im  ’ere.  Guess  he  tan 
hear  Mike  well  ’nough,  too.  Naughty  boy! 
naughty  talwag  ! ” 

"Lulu  May,  do  you  know  where  he  is?” 
asked  Nettie,  overhearing  her. 

The  little  one  did  not  say.  She  just 
looked  up  from  under  her  long,  dark  lashes, 
and  began  moving  away. 


LULU  may’s  terror.  79 


"I  do  believe  she  knows,”  cried  Eric, 
stepping  after  her.  "Darling,  won’t  you  tell 
Eric  where  Matty  is?  ” 

But  instead  of  answering  him,  Lulu  May 
moved  on  towards  the  chicken-house,  merely 
remarking  that  she  "’posed  it  was  time  her 
hens  was  feeded.” 

"Now,  baby,  you  are  too  bad,”  cried  Eric, 
sure  that  she  knew,  "not  to  tell  Eric.” 

"Good  Eric,  that  saved  you  from  the 
dreadful  fire,”  continued  Allan;  "and  you 
won’t  tell  him,  naughty  baby  ! ” 

Poor  little  Lulu  May  ! her  lip  curled  pit- 
eously and  trembled,  her  sweet  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  the  words  came  sobbing  forth, 
in  real  terror,  — 

"He’s  in  ’er  tib.  Said  if  ’er  told  you, 
gobble-gobble  would  eat  ’er  up.” 

" No,  darling,”  cried  Eric,  catching  her 
up ; " nothing  shall  touch  you ; and  the 
gobble-gobble  would  be  afraid  of  you.  Matty 
is  a bad  boy.  Nothing  would  harm  our 
Lulu  May,  our  dear  baby.  Marion,  that 


80 


johnstone’s  farm. 


little  wretch  ought  to  be  punished  for  terrify- 
ing her  so.” 

"And  he  shall  be,”  said  Marion,  indig- 
nantly, proceeding  to  the  baby’s  crib,  and 
routing  out  the  little  rascal  who  occupied  it. 

He  had  stolen  in  there,  first  threatening 
the  poor  baby  with  the  dreadful  turkey 
gobbler  if  she  ventured  to  reveal  his  hiding- 
place.  And  there  he  lay  concealed,  full  of 
envy  towards  Eric  and  Allan,  and  deter- 
mined not  to  pilot  them  to  the  hunting- 
ground  he  was  forbidden  to  explore ; for 
although  he  could  throw  a lasso  coil,  and 
handle  a gun,  far  better  than  could  either 
of  the  other  boys,  his  father  would  never 
allow  him  to  go  out  upon  the  prairies. 

Marion  never  attempted  his  punishment 
herself,  and  on  this  occasion  she  simply 
assured  him  that  Nakona  should  hear  of  his 
misconduct,  and  then  sent  him  off,  with  the 
impatient  boys,  to  guide  them  to  the  spot 
which  Johnstone  had  told  them  was  the  best 
for  their  purpose. 


Off  to  the  Prairies. — Page  81. 


matty’s  mischief. 


81 


But  Matty’s  darkened  soul  was  wicked 
and  revengeful.  Instead  of  leading  the 
boys  where  they  had  been  advised  to  go, 
he  took  them  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  at 
the  edge  of  the  town  left  them  with  the  dogs, 
and  drove  rapidly  back  to  the  farm,  solacing 
himself  with  the  comforting  assurance  that 
they  might  hunt  all  day  without  finding  any 
prairie  chickens  there,  or  anything  else  worth 
shooting. 

Knowing  nothing  of  his  ill  intentions,  the 
eager  lads  whistled  to  Don  and  Karl,  and, 
shouldering  their  guns,  took  the  line  of 
march  for  the  grouse. 

The  dogs  looked  as  though  they  did  not 
understand  the  movement.  They  glanced  at 
the  retreating  vehicle,  at  the  shouldered 
rifles,  and  at  each  other.  Then  they  scented 
the  ground  and  sniffed  the  air,  and,  with  a 
short,  quick  bark,  seemed  to  say,  "There  is 
no  game  here.” 

But  the  lads,  unfortunately,  did  not  under- 
stand dogs,  and  trudged  hopefully  on.  And 
6 


82 


johnstone's  farm. 


then  Don  and  Karl,  snapping  out,  " O,  dear, 
what  a splendid  day  we  are  all  losing ! ” 
trotted  after  them. 

On  and  on  they  went.  The  walking  was  not 
easy  over  the  long,  thick,  prairie  grass,  and 
the  guns  were  heavy  ; but  their  hearts  were 
resolute.  For  grouse  they  came,  with  grouse 
they  would  return.  And  on  they  went, 

momentarily  hoping  that  the  dogs  would 
start  the  game  for  them.  The  sun  poured 
down  in  broad,  hot  beams,-  smiting  them 
with  his  fiery  glow,  and  the  hot,  dry  grass 
seemed  almost  to  scorch  their  weary  feet. 
Afar  in  the  distance  was  a clump  of  oaks, 
and,  reaching  it  at  last,  the  exhausted  lads 
threw  themselves  beneath  its  grateful  shade. 
Karl  and  Don,  with  their  Ions:  red  tongues 
thrust  out,  panting  with  the  heat,  were 
there  before  them,  looking  up  imploringly, 
as  if  entreating  their  young  masters  to 
remain - 

" In  two  minutes  more  I think  I should 
have  dropped  down,”  Allan  murmured, 


THE  EXHAUSTED  HUNTERS.  83 

throwing  off  his  hat  upon  the  grass,  and 
wiping  his  dripping  brow.  " That  was  a 
tough  pull,  Eric.  How  far  do  you  suppose 
we  have  come  ? ” 

" Four  or  five  miles,  at  least,”  groaned 
the  other.  " But  don’t  ask  me  to  get  up 
now  and  look  back.  I would  not  stir  for 
a small  fortune.  Gracious ! what  a hot 
walk  it  was  ! ” 

"That  it  was,”  rejoined  Allan;  "it  will 
never  do  to  venture  into  that  burning  sun- 
light again  till  we  are  thoroughly  rested. 
We  had  better  remain  here  for  a half 
hour,  at  least.” 

So  he  stretched  himself  beside  Eric,  who 
lay  flat  upon  the  ground.  And  there, 
gazing  up  into  the  blue  sky  through  the 
thick  foliage,  and  listening  to  the  murmurs 
o^  the  soft  breeze,  the  lads  were  lulled  to 
sleep. 

Meanwhile,  the  time  had  flown  as  they 
had  no  idea  of,  and  it  was  nearly  twilight. 
At  the  farm  already  their  return  was  looked 


84 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


for,  and  still  they  slept  until  awakened  by 
a tremendous  shock. 

Far  down  in  the  north  a low,  black  cloud 
had  hung,  in  which  the  lightning  flashed 
continually.  Now  it  had  rolled  onward, 
gathering  force  and  fury  in  its  power,  and 
struck  the  sleeping  lads  in  a tremendous 
storm  of  wind  and  hail,  and  such  biting, 
stinging  cold  that  they  awoke  quivering  in 
every  nerve.  The  dogs,  howling,  fled  before 
the  fury  of  the  blast.  The  trees  cracked 
and  bent  over  nearly  to  the  ground.  The 
hail  beat  upon  their  faces,  and  the  furious 
wind  almost  hurled  them  to  the  earth. 

The  young  hunters  were  completely  terri- 
fied. Clinging  fast  to  each  other,  they 
realized  their  worst  danger  lay  in  the  grove, 
and  dragged  themselves  from  it,  just  as  a 
tree  under  which  they  had  been  sleeping  was 
snapped  off,  and  went  down  with  a crash. 

" Thank  God ! we  escaped  in  time ! ” 
Eric  cried,  shivering  with  fear.  w Allan,” 
he  continued,  shrieking  in  his  companion’s 


THE  STORM. 


85 


ear,  " it  is  a northern  tornado.  We  must 
get  away  from  the  trees  and  lie  down  to- 
gether.” 

So  they  dragged  themselves  farther  from 
the  swaying  grove,  and,  clinging  in  a fast 
embrace,  sank  down  in  the  soft  grass.  The 
cold  was  intense,  the  darkness  appalling, 
and  both  the  lads  knew  that  people  over- 
taken by  storms  of  the  sort  upon  the  prairies 
frequently  perished.  The  grass  afforded 
them  no  protection  ; it  seemed  to  be  torn 
up  by  the  roots.  The  cold  increased,  and 
lying  there  on  the  prairie  in  the  black  and 
bitter  storm,  the  two  lads  cried,  " O,  God, 
have  mercy  on  us ! ” and  clasped  their 
quivering  hands  together,  praying  fervently 
and  sincerely. 

And  miles  away,  others  were  praying  for 
them — Marion,  with  poor,  blind  Nettie 
beside  her,  Johnstone,  and  Mr.  Leonard, 
who  had  but  just  learned  that  they  were  out 
alone. 

f'I  cannot  stand  this  cold!”  cried  Allan, 


86 


* 

joiinstone’s  farm. 

at  last,  in  desperation.  " Eric,  I am 
perishing ! I shall  die  if  I cannot  get 
warm  ! ” 

Without  a word  Eric  crept  on  his  hands 
and  knees  to  the  grove,  seized  his  rifle,  and 
returned  to  Allan. 

Then,  sprinkling  some  powder  from  his 
flask  upon  the  ground,  he  fired  a charge  into 
it.  In  an  instant,  in  spite  of  the  furious  wind 
and  storm,  the  two  were  fleeing  for  their 
lives.  The  sparks  from  Eric’s  gun,  striking 
the  powder,  had  flashed  it,  and  set  the 
prairie  on  fire. 

The  flames  could  not  go  upward,  and  in- 
stead they  spread  themselves  over  the  ground 
in  broad,  long  tongues,  and  with  furious 
rapidity. 

With  horror  and  remorse  Eric  saw  he 
had  made  that  dreadful  storm  a scourge 
of  fire. 

But  he  had  no  time  to  stand  lamenting. 
The  flames  were  almost  at  his  feet.  Grasp- 
ing Allan’s  arm,  he  fled  on  and  on  before 


THE  FIRE. 


87 


the  relentless  enemy,  forgetful  of  the  storm, 
and  praying  only  now  to  be  saved  from  the 
fire. 

At  length  when,  exhausted  and  hopeless, 
the  fire  seemed  gaining  on  them,  Allan 
spied  a prairie  pool  to  the  west  of  them. 
Seizing  Eric’s  powder-horn,  and  flinging  it 
far  away,  he  pointed  to  the  water,  and  with 
new  courage,  now  that  hope  was  at  hand 
again,  by  an  extraordinary  effort  they  gained 
the  pool,  springing  through  a yard  or  two 
of  the  fire,  and  plunging  into  its  cold, 
dark  waters. 

" Tread  water,  Eric,”  Allan  cried,  " if  we 
do  not  touch  bottom.” 

But  the  pool  was  shallow,  and  not  above 
their  armpits  in  the  centre.  Its  waters  were 
icy  cold,  however,  and  the  wind  so  furious 
there  was  danger  of  their  being  blown  over. 
On  the  side  of  the  little  pond  farthest  from 
the  fire,  Allan  noticed  the  land  was  swampy, 
and,  leading  Eric  there,  they  lay  down  on 
the  clumps  of  grass,  pressing  their  faces 


88 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


close  against  the  earth,  and  covering  them 
with  their  hands  to  keep  out  the  suffocating 
smoke. 

With  savage  growls  and  howling  a crowd 

O O o 

of  dark  objects  swept  by  them,  fleeing  in 
terror  from  the  devastating  fire. 

"Wolves!”  whispered  Allan,  shivering, 
into  Eric’s  ear.  " And  we  have  no  gun.” 

"O,  Allan,”  returned  Eric,  "God  has 
saved  us  so  far : He  will  not  forsake  us 
now.” 

"No,”  said  Allan,  "He  will  not.  See, 
Eric,  the  fire  has  turned.  It  will  not  come 
here  now ; and  it  is  between  us  and  the 
wolves.  Twice  to-night  He  has  saved  us. 
Let  us  thank  Him ! ” 

And  they  did  thank  the  Lord,  sincerely 
and  heartily ; kneeling  there  on  the  open 
prairie,  with  their  arms  around  each  other, 
they  offered  up  their  thanks,  and  begged 
Him  to  watch  over  and  protect  them,  — not 
only  through  the  night  to  come,  but  through 
their  lives,  and  praying  for  His  grace  to 


DAY  AT  LEAST. 


89 


enablb  them  to  walk  before  Him  in  holiness 
and  righteousness. 

" See,”  said  Eric,  afterwards,  pointing  to 
the  east,  " there  is  another  fire.” 

" Yes,”  said  Allan,  joyfully,  "it  is  the 
sun.  O,  Eric,  day  has  dawned.” 


90 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  SUSPENSE. 

UST  before  the  tornado  was  observed  in 


Omaha,  Mr.  Leonard  learned  that  the 
boys  were  alone  upon  the  prairie.  He  had 
gone  over  to  Johnstone’s  Farm  with  some 
fruit  for  Nettie  and  Lulu  May  ; and  while 
Marion  was  telling  him  about  the  boys’  delay 
in  starting,  Nakona  came  rushing  in,  wildly 
inquiring  for  Matty. 

"Matty?  He  is  safe  in  bed.  I sent  him 
there  for  punishment.  He  has  been  a very 
naughty  boy,”  said  Marion. 

" I am  glad  ! I am  glad  ! ” said  Nakona, 
dropping  into  a chair. 


Marion  thought  he  had  lost  his  senses. 
" Glad,  Nakona?”  said  she. 


THE  CAJIANCHES. 


91 


“ Glad  that  he  is  safe,”  the  Indian  re- 
plied. " They  are  hiding  and  lying  in 
wait.  What  has  not  my  spirit  suffered ! 
The  Carnanches  are  abroad  on  the  near 
prairie.” 

Marion  turned  deadly  white,  and  tottered 
forward  as  if  struck  by  a sudden  blow. 

" The  Carnanches  ! ” she  gasped,  " our 
deadliest  enemies  ! O,  those  poor  lads  ! ” 

Mr.  Leonard,  too,  was  staggered  by  the 
tidings. 

" Are  you  sure  ? ” he  asked  of  the 
Indian. 

"I  saw  them,”  was  the  laconic  answer. 
And  Nakona  wondered  why  they  were 
affected  by  his  news,  for  to  him  the  hostile 
tribe  could  have  but  one  purpose  — the  re- 
capture of  himself  and  Matty. 

He  was  only  half  Indian,  but  Matty’s 
mother  had  been  the  daughter  of  a Camanche 
chief;  and  when  Nakona,  by  his  friendliness 
to  the  whites,  incurred  the  deadly  hatred  of 
the  tribe,  and  fled  from  them  with  his  little 


92 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


son,  the  Camanche  warriors  had  vowed  to 
reclaim  the  child,  and  had  already  attempted 
his  capture  several  times. 

Johnstone  had  twice  saved  Nakona’s  life, 
and  the  Indian  was  greatly  attached  to  him. 
Now,  seeing  Marion’s  agitation,  he  feared 
that  his  benefactor  was  in  danger  from  his 
enemies,  and  the  grateful  creature,  at  once 
springing  to  his  feet,  expressed  his  fidelity. 

" Is  it  the  brave  white  man?”  (that  was 
Johnstone).  "I  will  go  in  search  of  him.” 
"No,  no,”  said  Marion,  quickly;  " he  is 
safe,  thank  Heaven!  but  the  lads  — O, 
Nakona,  they  will  be  scalped  ! ” 

" Where  went  they?  ” inquired  the  Indian, 
excitedly. 

" To  the  north-west  prairie,  for  grouse.” 
An  expression  of  great  relief  stole  over 
the  red  man’s  face. 

" Nakona  has  been  upon  the  grouse  prairie 
all  day.  No  one  else  was  there.  Alone  he 
hunted  the  birds,  and  alone  he  swept  the 
great  range  with  his  keen  eye.  The  young 


ANXIETY. 


93 


white  lads  went  not  to  the  north-west 
prairie.” 

"That  was  where  they  were  directed,”  cried 
Marion,  distractedly.  " Matty  drove  them.” 

Nakona  strode  off  to  question  his  mis- 
chievous son,  and  Mr.  Leonard  exclaimed, — 

" Matty  could  not  have  taken  them  there. 
Nakona’s  eagle  eye  would  have  spied  a robin 
within  the  three  mile  prairie.  I will  take 
horses  and  go  for  the  lads  with  Nakona  when 
he  finds  where  that  little  imp  really  left 
them.” 

" O,  thank  you,  Mr.  Leonard,”  poor  Mar- 
ion cried.  " Only  bring  them  back  safe  to 
me.  How  could  I have  let  them  go  alone? 
There  is  Nettie ; don’t,  pray,  let  her  know 
our  anxiety.” 

Nettie  came  in,  leading  Lulu  May,  and 
looking  troubled. 

" Marion,  I am  afraid  there  is  a storm 
coming  up,”  said  she;  "the  wind  moans, 
and  the  air  has  grown  chilly.  Why  don't 
those  boys  come  home?” 


94 


joiinstone’s  farm. 


" They  must  be  on  their  way  now,”  Marion 
answered,  sending  Nettie  away  again,  with  a 
message  to  Katy.  "Tell  her,  dear,  to  have 
a nice  supper  ready  for  them,  they  will  be 
so  hungry.” 

Scarcely  had  Nettie  gone  out  of  the  room 
when  Nakona  entered,  hurriedly. 

" They  are  on  the  south-west  prairie,”  he 
exclaimed.  " And  there  is  a tornado  coming 
up.  We  must  speed  after  them  at  once.” 
And  he  was  on  his  way  for  the  horses  before 
the  sound  of  his  voice  had  ceased. 

Mr.  Leonard  hurried  after  him,  saying,  as 
he  went,  "Never  fear,  Mrs.  Johnstone;  we 
will  bring  them  safe  back  to  you.” 

Then  the  tornado  came,  bursting  in  fury 
upon  them.  In  its  teeth  the  two  brave  men 
set  out  to  find  the  lads,  urged  on  now  by  the 
knowledge  that  their  sufferings  in  that  cold 
northern  tornado  must  be  intense. 

Johnstone,  arriving  at  his  home  in  the 
midst  of  the  dreadful  storm,  upon  learning 
what  had  transpired  in  his  absence,  and  bit- 


COMFORTING  WORDS. 


95 


terly  blaming  himself  for  having  allowed  the 
lads  to  go  out  alone,  immediately  followed 
them.  His  own  horse  was  jaded  and  tired  ; 
but  Marion’s  Lady  Nell  was  fresh,  and  not 
afraid  of  the  storm.  He  rode  her,  and  led 
the  two  ponies. 

Nettie  knew  nothing  of  the  danger  from 
the  Indians  ; but  the  terrors  of  the  storm 
were  enough  to  -alarm  a stouter  heart  than 
hers.  Marion  did  not  tell  her  that  it  was 
already  night,  and  darker  than  usual,  on 
account  of  the  tornado ; and  even  of  that 
Nettie  failed  to  know  the  force,  for  John- 
stone’s stone  house  withstood  its  shocks 
bravely.  Yet  she  knew  there  was  imminent 
danger ; and  all  through  that  fearful  night 
she  listened  for  her  brother’s  footsteps,  and 
prayed  for  his  safe  return  and  Allan’s. 

And  now  a new  horror  was  added  to  the 
rest.  Afar  in  the  distance  Marion  soied  a 
lurid  streak,  growing  wider,  and  redder,  and 
brighter  with  every  passing  second. 


96 


johnstone’s  farm. 


”0,  Heaven!”  she  thought,  "the  prairie 

is  on  fire.” 

And  now  her  fears  were  not  alone  for 
Eric  and  Allan,  but  for  Johnstone  and  their 
brave  friend  and  servant.  And  beside  her 
was  the  poor,  nervous  blind  girl,  from  whom 
this  new  terror  must  be  kept.  Suddenly 
Marion  thought  of  the  ninety-first  psalm. 
It  comforted  her  greatly  now,  and  she  re- 
peated a portion  to  Nettie,  in  her  low, 
sweet  voice. 

" Thou  skalt  not  be  afraid  for  the  terror 
by  night , nor  for  the  arrow  that  Jlieth  by 
day , nor  for  the  pestilence  that  walketh 
in  darkness , nor  for  the  destruction  that 
waste th  at  noonday . 

" For  He  shall  give  His  angels  charge 
over  thee,  to  keep  thee  in  all  thy  ways” 

Sweet  little  Lulu  May,  catching  the  word 
"angels,”  and  half  understanding  their  anx- 
iety, exclaimed,  — 

"Mamma’s  an  angel.  Her’ll  fly  down  to 
Eke  and  Annan,  and  take  care  of  uin.” 


THE  BABY'S  COMFORT. 


97 


The  idea,  crude  as  it  was,  lodged  in 
Nettie’s  heart.  She  knelt  beside  her  little 
comforter,  and  kissed  her.  Then  she  spoke 
more  cheerfully. 

" Marion,  I do  believe  they  will  be  safe. 
God  can  take  care  of  them  just  as  well  on 
the  prairie  as  here  in  the  house.  And  He 
will,  I know.  That  is  a beautiful  psalm.  I 
wish  you  would  sing  it.” 

And  Marion,  troubled  though  she  was, 
sang  that  most  beautiful  of  hymns  : — 

“ God  shall  charge  His  angel  legions 
Watch  and  ward  o’er  thee  to  keep, 

Though  thou  walk  through  hostile  regions, 
Though  in  desert  wilds  thou  sleep. 

“ On  the  lion  vainly  roaring, 

On  his  young,  thy  foot  shall  tread ; 

And  the  dragon’s  den  exploring, 

Thou  shalt  bruise  the  serpent’s  head. 

“ Since,  with  pure  and  firm  affection, 

Thou  on  God  hast  set  thy  love, 

With  the  wings  of  His  protection 
He  will  shield  thee  from  above. 

7 


98 


JOHNS  T O N E ’ S F A KM. 


“ Thou  shalt  call  on  Him  in  trouble; 

He  will  hearken,  He  will  save ; 

Here  for  grief  reward  thee  double, 

Crown  with  life  beyond  the  grave.” 

When  the  hymn  was  ended,  Katy  came 
in,  and,  signing  to  Nettie,  beckoned  her  mis- 
tress out  into  the  hall. 

"Mrs.  Johnstone,”  said  she,  "Mike  have 
been  up  to  Farmer  Leonard’s,  and  the  dogs 
is  back  again.  He  have  got  a lot  of  men 
together,  and  they’ve  gone  after  master  and 
the  lads  with  the  hounds  ; and  Mike  says 
you’ve  no  need  to  fret  about  the  fire,  for  it’s 
south  of  where  Master  struck  the  prairie  ; 
and  the  Indians  would  travel  the  other 
way.” 

" Thank  you,  Katy,”  said  Marion,  re- 
lieved. "You’ve  taken  a great  load  off  my 
mind.  Mike  is  a good,  faithful  fellow.” 

"Sure,  an’ why  wouldn’t  he  be?  an’  you 
so  good  to  him,  an’  to  us  all.  An’  do , Mrs. 
Johnstone,  tell  that  little  angel,  in  there, 


KINDNESS. 


99 


not  to  worry  her  pretty  head.  They’re  sure 
to  be  safe,  the  dear  lads.” 

When  Marion  went  back  to  the  parlor, 
Nettie  was  sitting  in  a low  chair,  with  Lulu 
May  in  her  lap,  singing  the  baby  to  sleep  ; 
and  Marion,  wisely  thinking  she  would  get 
most  comfort  herself  in  trying  to  make  the 
little  one  happy,  left  them  together. 

Lulu  May  soon  went  to  sleep,  and  Nettie 
dozed  into  a nap  several  times,  in  spite  of 
her  anxiety  ; but  Marion’s  eyes  never  closed 
through  that  long  and  dreadful  night.  The 
first  gleam  of  dawn  saw  her  looking  eagerly 
in  the  direction  her  husband  had  taken,  and 
later,  from  the  cupola  of  her  house,  sweeping 
the  horizon  with  a field-glass.  But  she  saw 
nothing,  except  the  broad,  black  trail  left 
over  the  prairie  by  the  devastating  fire. 

"I  wonder,”  she  said  to  herself,  descend- 
ing, "if  the  boys  didn’t  light  that  fire  to 
keep  themselves  warm  ? Poor  things  ! they 
had  no  idea  of  the  mischief  they  were 
doing.” 


100  JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 
CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  INDIANS’  ATTACK. 

RIC,”  asked  Allan,  suddenly,  as  the 


eastern  sky  grew  brighter  with  the 
dawning  day,  and  the  two  stood  gazing  at  it, 
scarcely  daring  to  believe  that  the  terrible 
night  was  at  an  end,  "do  you  think  our  fire 
could  have  reached  the  village?” 

"No,”  said  Eric;  "Mr.  Johnstone  told  me 
once  that  these  western  towns  were  so  liable 
to  be  fired  from  the  prairies,  the  people  on 
the  edge  of  the  towns  always  plough  up  a 
hundred  feet  or  so  of  the  grass  land  beyond 
their  fences,  and  there  is  nothing  for  the  fire 
to  fasten  on  and  burn.” 

"Well,  I’m  glad  of  that,”  Allan  answered, 
heartily.  " That  fire  was  horrible  enough  ; 


NORTH,  EAST,  SOUTH,  WEST.  101 


but  all  the  time  I kept  thinking,  What  if  we 
had,  in  our  thoughtlessnes,  set  Omaha  afire  ! ” 

"No  danger  of  that,  at  any  rate.  Omaha 
is  south-west  of  us.” 

"Why,  Eric  ! It  is  certainly  south-east.” 

Both  stood  pointing  in  the  directions 
named  ; each,  of  course,  entirely  opposite  to 
the  other,  and  both  certain  that  they  were 
right. 

Allan  spoke. 

"Mr.  Johnstone  certainly  told  Matty  to 
take  us  to  the  north-west.” 

"Yes.  But  now  I think  of  it,  Matty  did 
not.  Don’t  you  remember,  he  drove  south, 
through  Omaha,  and  by  the  station?” 

"So  he  did.  And  that’s  the  reason  we’ve 
found  no  birds,”  Allan  cried,  a light  break- 
ing upon  mystery. 

" Then  we’re  to  go  north-eest,”  said  Eric ; 
"but,”  he  added,  turning  round  in  bewilder- 
ment, "the  question  is,  which  way  is  the 
north-east?  ” 

" That  we’ll  know  in  a jiffy,”  Allan  re- 


102  Johnstone’s  farm. 

sponded,  detaching  a tiny  compass  from  his 
watch-chain,  and  laying  it  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand.  " There  is  north,”  pointing  off  as 
the  needle  indicated,  "and  we  must  bear 
toward  the  sun.” 

" Yes  ; and  the  first  thing  is  to  load  our 
rifles,  and  find  my  powder-horn,”  said  Eric. 

Accordingly,  when  both  rifles  were  loaded 
from  Allan’s  flask,  a search  was  made  for 
Eric’s,  and  it  was  found  unharmed  by  the 
fire. 

"It’s  lucky  we  didn’t  take  our  rifles  into 
the  water,”  remarked  Allan,  "and  it’s  also 
lucky  that  we  dropped  them  just  where  we 
did.  Do  you  suppose  there  is  any  chance 
of  our  finding  our  hats  ? ” 

"Not  unless  we  travel  way  back  to  that 
grove;  and  it’s  too  far  behind  us,  ajid  out  of 
our  way  home.  We’ll  have  to  make  turbans 
of  our  2jime-bao;s.  Handkerchiefs  would  be 
nothing  in  the  hot  sun  that  will  soon  pour 
down  upon  us.” 

" Those  old  things  will  bans;  down  like 


SHOOTING  GROUSE. 


103 


bonnets,”  said  Allan,  in  disgust.  " I shall 
wear  my  handkerchief  as  long  as  I can,  any 
way.”  So  he  knotted  it  up,  and  put  it  upon 
his  head  ; and  Eric,  thinking  the  gear  of  his 
suggestion  would  be  rather  cumbersome,  fol- 
lowed his  example.  " Hark  !”  cried  Allan, 
suddenly,  as  a peculiar  tooting  sound  struck 
upon  their  ears. 

Eric  grasped  his  darling  rifle.  "Allan, 
don’t  you  know  ? It’s  the  male  grouse  on 
parade.  Isn’t  it  luck  for  us?” 

" But  it’s  ever  so  far  off,”  expostulated 
Allan. 

" ’Sh  ! ” said  Eric,  in  a low  tone  ; " they’re 
great  ventriloquists,  those  fellows.  I’ve 
read  all  about  them.  I think  they’re  in 
that  clump  of  bushes,  yonder.” 

So,  cautiously  and  quietly,  the  two  lads 
dropped  upon  the  grass,  and  crawled  along 
towards  the  shrubbery  whence  Eric  thought 
the  sound  issued.  And  he  was  right.  The 
air  resouuded  with  the  loud  tooting  of  the 
excited  males  ; and  there,  as  though  met  by 


104  joiinstone’s  farm. 

appointment,  were  a dozen  or  more,  with 
their  feathers  ruffled,  strutting  like  turkey- 
cocks  before  each  other’s  faces,  and  every  now 
and  then  rising  in  the  air,  and  striking  at 
each  other,  and  fighting  furiously. 

Simultaneously  the  young  hunters  fired ; 
and  each  discharge  stretched  a bird  lifeless 
upon  the  ground.  A portion  of  the  flock 
were  alarmed,  and  fled  in  a quick,  whirring 
flight ; but  the  others  were  so  engrossed  in 
their  fighting,  that  even  the  loud  report  of  the 
rifles  did  not  disturb  them.  So  the  lads 
loaded  again,  and  fired. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Johnstone,  who 
had  been  roaming  the  prairie  in  search  of 
them  all  the  long  night,  hearing  the  rifles’ 
crack,  rode  rapidly  towards  them,  and  came 
in  sight  just  as  the  second  discharge  was 
fired. 

Riding  rapidly  forward,  leading  the  tired 
ponies,  he  saw  the  flash  of  white  smoke,  saw 
the  remaining  birds  scatter  rapidly  away,  and 
saw  also  — what  made  his  heart  sick  with 


To  the  Rescue.  — Page  105. 


THE  INDIANS. 


105 


dread  — the  whole  plain  suddenly  alive  with 
Indians. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  he  did 
it.  Seeing  the  savages  rushing  down  upon 
the  defenceless  and  unconscious  lads,  he 
spurred  forward,  waving  his  hat,  and  shout- 
ing, as  if  to  a band  of  followers,  — 

"Here  they  are  ! After  them,  boys,  after 
them  ! ” 

The  Indians  were  deceived  by  this  manoeu- 
vre, but  would  doubtless  have  soon  returned 
to  the  charge,  had  there  not,  in  seeming 
response  to  Johnstone’s  call,  dashed  into 
sight  a troop  of  men  mounted  and  armed. 
Seeing  these,  without  further  hesitation  the 
Indians  turned  and  fled. 

The  two  boys  could  not  understand  this 
sudden  appearing  and  di-appearing,  for  as 
they  saw  the  men  on  horseback  they  also 
spied  the  flying  Indians. 

Standing,  rifle  in  hand,  beside  their  dead 
game,  they  had  just  time  to  exclaim  to  each 
other  in  astonishment,  as  they  recognized  the 


106 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


foremost  rider,  " Why,  it’s  Mr.  Johnstone  ! ” 
when  the  latter  was  among  them,  grasping  a 
hand  of  each,  talking  of  their  miraculous 
preservation,  and  thanking  the  Lord  for 
their  safety.  Then  up  came  Mike  and  his 
men,  Nakona,  and  Mr.  Leonard. 

" Well,”  said  Allan,  shuddering,  as  they 
learned  their  danger,  " we  were  in  the  midst 
of  a thrilling  adventure,  it  seems,  and  did 
not  know  it.” 

"O,  how  I suffered  for  you  ! ” Johnstone 
cried,  excitedly;  " unloaded,  and  with  your 
backs  to  the  foe  ! ” 

" And  this  last  adventure,  although  we 
knew  nothing  of  it,  was  really  worse,  Allan, 
than  the  dreadful  storm  or  the  fire,”  said 
Eric.  "Did  the  fire  do  any  harm,  Mr. 
Johnstone?  ” 

" No,  except  to  keep  us  from  you.  I sus- 
pected you  set  it.  But  don’t  ever  do  any- 
thing of  the  sort  again  ; it’s  too  dangerous 
an  experiment.” 

" No,  indc  ed,”  returned  the  two.  "I  guess, 


THE  REENFORCEMENT.  107 


if  you’d  seen  us  running,  till  our  lungs 
almost  burst,  to  keep  from  its  terrible  heat, 
you’d  not  think  it  necessary  to  caution  us 
against  doin^  it  arain.” 

C?  o o 

" And  now,”  suggested  Mr.  Leonard, 
" Nakona  thinks  we’d  better  make  tracks  for 
Omaha  city.  He  says  the  Indians  will  prob- 
ably return,  reenforced.” 

The  lads  turned  pale  upon  hearing  this, 
and  mounted  their  ponies  in  hot  haste,  for 
they  knew  enough  about  the  savage  cruelty 
of  their  foe  to  believe  discretion  to  be  the 
better  part  of  valor.  But  Allan,  suddenly 
reminded  of  their  successful  raid  on  the 
birds,  exclaiming,  " O,  the  grouse  we  shot !” 
leaped  to  the  ground,  and  hastily  gathered 
up  the  spoil. 

” See  there,  Nakona  ! ” said  he,  exultingly, 
holding  up  five  plump  birds. 

The  Indian  turned  his  keen  eyes  from  the 
place  in  which  his  enemies  had  disappeared, 
and,  glancing  carelessly  at  the  trophies,  ex- 
claimed, — 


108 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


” Ah,  in  the  scratching  place.  Had  you 
fowling-pieces,  a dozen  birds  would  have 
been  yours.” 

And  then  he  whispered  to  Johnstone  that 
it  would  be  dangerous  to  delay  longer,  re- 
minding him  that  the  Indians  had  probably 
mustangs  tethered  near,  and  that  their  own 
horses  were  far  from  fresh. 

"True,  Nakona,”  Johnstone  replied. 
" Come,  boys,  there’s  no  time  to  lose. 
Sling  your  game,  mount,  and  away  ! Now, 
ride,  ride , ride,  as  you  never  rode  before, 
for  there  they  come!” 

Away  went  the  party  over  the  plain ; 
even  the  tired  horses  seemed  to  feel  and 
know  their  danger. 

The  boys  had  cast  one  quick  glance  back- 
ward, and  saw  just  a faint  black  line,  away 
off  in  the  distance.  At  the  same  time,  with 
a loud,  ringing  war-whoop,  Nakona  seized 
Allan’s  bridle,  Mr.  Leonard  grasped  Eric’s, 
and  the  little  troop  swept  along  towards  the 
town,  Eric  and  Allan  just  clinging  to  their 


the  Indian’s  pursuit.  109 


ponies,  which,  flying  as  they  were,  seemed 
to  the  excited  lads  only  to  creep  along. 
How  desperately  long  the  six  miles  between 
them  and  the  town  seemed  ! But,  fortu- 
nately, the  Indian  mustangs  were  not  fresh, 
having  been  scouring  the  prairie  all  night  in 
fear  of  the  fire.  And  though  the  savages 
followed  them  to  within  a mile  of  the  town, 
hoping  that  their  horses  would  fail  them  in 
the  hot  flight,  they  did  not  come  up  to  them. 
Nearer  the  town  they  dared  not  go,  knowing 
instant  pursuit  would  be  made  by  its  inhab- 
itants. 

As  it  happened,  even  their  cautious  ven- 
ture was  too  far ; for  as  our  party  neared  the 
streets  of  the  town,  there  dashed  out  from  it 
a troop  of  soldiers,  on  their  way  to  Fort 
Kearney,  well  mounted,  and  eager  to  re- 
venge the  last  raid  of  the  cruel  Camanches. 
Halting  to  learn  from  Johnstone  the  proba- 
ble direction  they  had  taken,  and  congratulat- 
ing the  boys  on  their  happy  escape,  with  a 
wild  huzza  they  clattered  on,  and,  as  our 


110 


joiinstone’s  farm. 


party  afterwards  learned,  overtook  the  Hying 
foe,  killed  a number,  and  took  many  pris- 
oners, bearing  them  in  triumph  to  Fort 
Kearney. 

The  pitiless  sun  was  now  streaming  down 
with  such  intense  heat,  that  the  boys  were 
fain  to  adopt  even  those  old  things  that 
hung  down  like  bonnets  ; ” and  very  comfort- 
able they  found  them,  although  they  were 
not  strictly  in  the  latest  New  York  fashion 
for  hats. 

r If  Nettie  could  see  these  ridiculous 
game-bags,  wouldn’t  she  laugh?”  said  Eric. 
" She’d  say  we  were  bringing  home  a new 
kind  of  prairie  chickens.  And  O,  by  the 
way,  Mr.  Johnstone,  what  did  Nakona  mean 
by  the  'scratching  place'?” 

They  could  talk  now,  for  in  Omaha  there 
was  no  danger  of  further  pursuit  by  the  In- 
dians, and  the  poor  tired  horses  could  not 
gallop  on  now,  and  had  changed  that  gait  for 
an  easy  trot. 

Nakona  had  ridden  far  ahead  of  the  others  ; 


THE  SCRATCHING  PLACE.  Ill 


so  Eric  addressed  his  question  to  John- 
stone. 

" Scratching  place  ? It  is  a sort  of  grouse 
parade  ground.  While  their  mates  are  tend- 
ing the  young,  the  male  grouse  meet  in  large 
numbers  in  places  of  -the  sort,  and  strut 
about,  bristling  their  feathers  and  trailing 
their  wings,  uttering  notes  of  defiance,  and 
challenging  one  another  to  battle ; then  they 
fight  until  the  weakest  are  whipped,  and  in 
the  course  of  their  fighting  scratch  and  mark 
the  ground  so,  that  the  signs  of  combat  are 
left  there  for  a long  while.  The  westerners, 
finding  such  places,  call  them  scratching 
grounds.” 

" We  were  lucky  to  find  one,”  Eric  re- 
marked. 

" Extremely,”  said  Johnstone,  " for  it  is 
unusually  late  in  the  season  for  a grouse 
parade,” 

"Eric,”  said  Allan,  "if  you’ve  made  all 
the  scientific  observations  you  intend  to,  I 
would  like  a chance  to  tell  Mr.  Johnstone, 


112 


johnstone’s  farm. 


and  Mr.  Leonard,  and  Nakona,  and  Mike 
and  his  men,  how  much  I thank  them  for 
coming  after  us.” 

"No  need,  Allan,”  Mr.  Leonard  answered  ; 
"but  if  thanks  must  be  given,  give  them  to 
Mike.  He  had  more  sense  and  judgment 
than  we  all.  And,  Johnstone,”  he  added, 
" you  were  the  bravest  man  I ever  saw,  to 
face  that  band  of  savages ; or  did  you  know 
we  were  at  hand  ? ” 

"No,”  answered  Johnstone,  "I  had  but 
one  thought  — the  lads!  the  lads!” 

"Well,”  exclaimed  the  lads,  drawing  a 
long,  deep  breath,  and  shivering  with  the 
remembrance  of  their  danger,  "I’m  glad 
we’re  out  of  it.” 

" Amen  ! ” responded  Johnstone,  fervent- 
ly ; then,  rising  in  his  stirrups,  he  called  to 
Mike.  "Mike,  my  good  man,  ask  your 
faithful  followers  to  come  up  to  the  Farm  for 
a dinner.” 

Mike  gave  the  invitation,  and  it  was  re- 


ANOTHER  SURPRISE. 


113 


ceived  with  a hearty  cheer.  Then  all  sep- 
arated to  seek  their  homes. 

Nakona  had  reached  the  house,  and  in- 
formed his  anxious  benefactress  that  all  were 
safe,  and  coming  down  the  road.  Marion 
went  in  to  tell  Nettie;  and  when  Johnstone 
and  the  boys  rode  up,  there  at  the  gate  were 
the  anxious  wife  and  sister,  sweet  little 
Lulu  May,  and  — was  it  ? — could  it  be  ? — 
yes,  it  certainly  was,  Surgeon  General  May- 
nard, the  children’s  old  friend  from  New 
York  ; and  he  was  holding  the  baby  in  his 
arms,  and  she  was  joyously  chirping,  as  she 
tenderly  smoothed  his  gray  hair,  and  patted 
his  bronzed,  weather-beaten  cheek,  between 
her  kisses,  "Eke,  Annan,  Donton,  ’ers  ’er 
gramfrum.” 


8 


114 


JOHNSTONE’S  FAR  M. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  SURGEON  GENERAL’S  STORY. 
FTER  the  boys  recovered  from  the 


astonishment  caused  by  being  told 
that  their  dear  surgeon  general  was  really 
Lulu  May’s  own  grandfather,  of  course  they 
were  eager  to  know  all  about  it.  But  Mar- 
ion emphatically  declared  that  no  explana- 
tions should  take  place  until  the  truants  had 
breakfasted,  and  banished  them,  "keer  bon- 
nets,” as  baby  called  their  head-gear,  and  all, 
to  their  rooms  to  wash  and  dress,  herself  going 
with  Johnstone. 

"Murray,  darling!”  she  cried,  clinging 
around  his  neck,  when  no  other  eyes  than  his 
were  upon  her,  "You  are  so  brave,  and  good, 
and  true!  but  O,  my  darling,  what  would, 


marion’s  advice. 


115 


would,  would  I have  done  if  those  dreadful 
Indians  had  taken  you  ? ” 

"What,  crying,  my  own  little  wife,  when 
all  our  troubles  are  over?  ” 

"I  can’t  help  it,”  sobbed  poor  Marion; 
" and  they  are  not  over : in  a few  days  you’ll 
be  in  just  such  another  danger.  I can’t  help 
admiring  your  courage,  and  dear,  generous 
heart,  Murray ; but  O,  do,  pray  be  more 
careful ! ” 

"Yes,  my  darling,  I will,”  Johnstone  an- 
swered, seeing  the  justice  of  his  wife’s  gentle 
remonstrance.  " it  was  careless  in  me  to  let 
the  boys  go  off,  and  thoughtless  to  start 
after  them  alone.  You  must  think  for  us 
both,  wise  little  Marion,  and  I shall  not 
make  so  many  mistakes.” 

What  else  they  said  is  no  matter  to  us, 
but  probably  pleased  Marion,  for  she  came 
down  stairs  again  with  shining  eyes  and  red 
cheeks,  to  which  baby  called  every  one’s  at- 
tention by  exclaiming,  — 

"O,  mamma,  how  pootty  you  is  ! ” 


116 


JOHNSTONE’S  FA  EM. 


For  though  Johnstone  was  always  " Don- 
ton  ” to  her,  she  called  Marion  " mamma.” 

Nettie  had  been  telling  Nakona  how  she 
never  could  thank  him  and  the  others 
enough  for  rescuing  her  dear  boys  ; and  the 
boys  went  out  to  help  her,  the  three  thus 
interrupting  the  Indian’s  lecture  to  his  trem- 
bling little  son,  who  stood  abashed  and  silent 
before  him. 

"The  brave  white  man,”  continued  Na- 
kona to  Matty,  going  on  with  his  lecture, 
" the  noble  pale-face  chief,  that  has  once 
stricken  down  the  Camanche  warriors  who 
would  have  overtaken  me  with  swift  feathered 
arrows.  Once  he  hurled  to  the  ground  the 
Camanche  who  would  have  scalped  your 
father.  My  son,  my  Indian  boy,  Nakona 
has  taught  you  that  the  Great  Spirit  likes 
not  ingratitude.  Who  christened  you  Mat- 
thew in  a Christian  name.  Who  taught  you 
to  read  and  write?  Who  takes  kind  care  of 
you  when  Nakona  is  afar?  and  who  looks 
upon  you  with  kind  love?  Listen.  Abroad 


MAT  TY’S  LOGIC. 


117 


are  Camanches.  I have  kept  you  from  the 
prairie.  They  scour  the  prairie,  watching 
for  you,  to  take  you  away,  to  bear  you  to 
their  lodge,  that  you  may  work  like  a dog  for 
them.  Faugh ! lying  and  deceitful ! Na- 
kona  thinks  you  will  do  well  to  seek  the 
Camanches.” 

The  Indian  looked  down  scornfully  upon 
the  little  culprit,  who  showed  no  fear,  though 
he  looked  ashamed  of  his  misconduct.  His 
spirit  w7as  as  resolute,  however,  as  Ins 
father’s. 

" No,”  said  he,  stoutly.  " I will  never  seek 
the  Camanches.  I will  live  here  ; and  I will 
be  good.  No  more  will  I scare  the  young 
pappoose,  nor  mislead  the  young  whites. 
But,” — and  here  his  eyes  danced  wTith  mis- 
chief, and  his  voice  w7as  dropped  to  a tone  of 
jvinning  sweetness, — "had  1 taken  them  to 
the  north-west  prairie,  there  were  the  Ca- 
manches! ” 

"Hurrah  ! Matty,  that’s  wThere  you’ve  got 
him,”  shouted  the  delighted  boys,  while 


118  JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


Nettie  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed,  and 
Nakona,  tickled  by  the  little  rascal’s  sharp- 
ness in  pleading  for  himself,  tried  to  look  at 
him  sternly,  and  failing,  strode  away  to  save 
his  dignity. 

" Nakona,  good  Nakona,  you  must  pardon 
him,”  shouted  the  children;  "we  can't  have 
any  one  punished  to-day.” 

To  their  entreaties  the  Indian  was  forced 
to  yield,  and  Matty  was  joyously  saved  from 
disgrace. 

" There’s  the  breakfast  bell ; I’m  as  hun- 
gry as  three  bears,”  shouted  Allan.  "Come, 
Nettie  ; ” and  he  grasped  her  hand. 

" Give  me  the  other,”  cried  Eric.  " That’s 
it.  Now,  one,  two,  three,  and  away.  The 
Camanches  are  after  us  ! ” 

"Wa-hu-u!”  screamed  Matty,  following. 
And  away  they  went,  as  if  the  Indians  were 
indeed  after  them,  Eric  and  Allan  on  either 
side  of  Nettie,  Hying  her  through  the  air 
and  across  the  lawn. 

"Mercy!”  cried  Nettie,  as  they  all  burst 


THE  SURGEON  GENERAL^  STORY. 119 

into  the  room.  " Marion,  dear,  I couldn’t 
help  it ; you  must  scold  Allan  and  that  sala- 
mander Eric.” 

" No  one  shall  be  scolded  to-day,”  an- 
swered the  hostess,  brightly  ; " not  even  you, 
Matty,  rogue  that  you  are.  Run  and  tell 
Katy  to  bring  up  the  cakes.” 

r Gramfrum,  ’er  must  sit  in  you  lap,”  said 
Lulu  May,  very  decidedly,  and  with  a com- 
ical, half-appealing  glance  at  Marion,  as  if 
she  feared,  even  now,  that  "mamma”  might 
oppose  "gramfrum,”  and  insist  upon  baby’s 
occupying  her  own  chair. 

But  Marion  laughingly  declared  that  she 
didn’t  know  which  was  most  of  a baby,  the 
grandfather  or  the  child  ; and  Lulu  May’s 
chair  was  vacant,  while  she  sat  in  state  upon 
her  grandfather’s  knee,  and  coolly  possessed 
herself  of  whatever  she  fancied  upon  his 
plate. 

Seeing  him  with  the  child,  the  boys’  curi- 
osity triumphed  over  their  appetite  for  food, 
and  they  were  so  eager  to  learn  how  the 


120  Johnstone’s  farm. 


surgeon  general  discovered  Lulu  May,  that 
he  began  the  story. 

"A  great  many  years  ago,  a young  man 
had  a little  daughter.  A remarkably  lovely 
child  she  was,  and  good,  too,  naturally;  but 
her  poor  weak  father  was  too  fond  of  his 
little  one  to  bring  her  up  properly.  He  never 
allowed  her  to  be  crossed.  His  little  girl 
was  the  image  of  her  dead  mother,  and  when- 
ever her  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she 
shrank  from  reproof,  the  father  thought  of 
the  pale,  sad  mother,  asleep  in  her  coffin, 
with  no  warm  kiss  of  love,  no  word  of  com- 
fort, for  his  poor  little  Lulu  May ; and  he 
thought  how  it  would  grieve  her  to  see  her 
little  child  made  unhappy ; so,  instead  of 
correcting  her,  he  would  pass  over  the  fault, 
and  kiss  away  the  tears,  and  make  his  little 
girl  laugh,  and  say  she  loved  her  papa. 

” Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  she  was  a dear 
good  little  girl,  and  grew  up  to  be  a very 
beautiful  young  lady.  Then  the  great  trouble 
of  the  father’s  life  began. 


H A R S II  WORDS. 


121 


" His  beautiful  daughter  loved  a man  who 
was  not  good.  She  would  not  listen  to  her 
poor  father’s  words.  ' She  loved  him,  and 
she  would  marry  him,’  she  said.  And  when 
the  father  forbade  her  ever  to  see  him  again, 
she  ran  away  with  the  man,  and  they  were 
married. 

" Then  the  father  did  very  wrong.  He 
told  her,  when  she  came  weeping  to  him  for 
forgiveness,  that  'she  had  lost  his  love  for- 
ever ; ’ that  she  f had  chosen  between  her 
lover  and  her  father,  and  must  abide  by  her 
choice.’ 

"And  a great  many  cruel  words  he  said, 
that,  I am  afraid,  broke  her  heart. 

" When  he  had  finished  speaking,  she  only 
said,  'O,  father,  father!’  and  then  she 
looked  at  him  in  great  sorrow,  and  turned, 
and  walked  away. 

" He  called  her  back,  but  she  did  not  hear 
him  ; and  the  poor  father  never  saw  his  child 
again.  She  left  the  city  with  her  husband, 
and  though  he  tried  every  means  in  his  power, 


122 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


he  could  find  no  trace  of  her,  until  one  day 
upon  a battle-field,  with  the  wounded  and 
dying  soldiers  lying  all  about  him,  this  poor 
unhappy  father  found  the  man  his  daughter 
had  married.  He  was  dying,  poor  fellow  ! 
and  because  his  daughter  had  loved  him,  the 
father  brought  him  water,  and  bathed  his 
brow,  and  bound  up  his  wounds,  and  all  for 
the  dear  daughter’s  sake  : he  bore  him  in  his 
arms  to  his  own  tent,  and  soothed  his  dying 
agony,  and  read  to  him  holy  words,  and 
prayed  the  dear  Lord  to  forgive  his  sins,  and 
take  him  to  his  fold,  even  as  He  forgave  the 
dying  thief  upon  the  cross. 

" And  then  this  wicked  man  was  filled  with 
horror  and  remorse  for  his  life  of  crime.  He 
pleaded  for  the  father’s  forgiveness,  and  told 
him  he  had  loved  the  daughter  truly  and 
fondly ; that  he  had  always  been  kind  to  her, 
and  had  gone  into  the  army  to  win  fame  and 
money  for  her,  and  for  the  child,  for  there 
was  a child,  a little  baby  — another  Lulu 
May. 


REPENTANCE. 


123 


" And  the  father  forgave  him  all,  and  owned 
himself  in  fault,  and  promised  to  take  back 
his  darling  child  and  her  little  one  to  his 
own  home,  and  to  his  warm  heart’s  love 
again.  Then  he  brought  a clergyman  to  the 
tent,  who  talked  with  the  dying  soldier,  and 
told  him  of  the  dear  Lord’s  wondrous  love 
and  mercy,  and  how  at  the  eleventh  hour 
poor  sinners  were  bidden  to  look  for  grace. 
And  all  three  prayed  together ; and  when  the 
man  died,  he  went  to  God,  humble,  repent- 
ant, and  trustful  of  His  love. 

" Before  he  died,  he  said,  'Give  my  last 
love  to  my  dear,  dear  wife,  and  to  my  dar- 
ling Lulu  May,  and  tell  them  to  meet 
me  in  heaven.’  And  his  last  words  were, 
'Lord,  I believe.  Have  mercy  upon  me  !’ 

"Then  the  father  took  him  home,  and  afar 
from  the  crimson  battle-field,  he  laid  his 
form  to  rest  in  a quiet,  green  cemetery. 
He  went  to  Chicago,  where  the  dying  man 
had  told  him  he  would  find  his  daughter ; 


124 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


but  she  had  left  the  place,  and  gone — so 
said  the  neighbors  — to  New  York. 

"Back  to  New  York  went  the  troubled 
father,  and  searched,  with  the  aid  of  detec- 
tives and  advertisements,  everywhere,  in 
vain.  Two  years  had  passed,  and  hope  had 
nearly  deserted  him,  when,  one  day,  in  Cen- 
tral Park  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  an 
interesting  little  blind  girl,  and  seeking  her 
in  her  home,  grew  to  know  the  child  and 
love  her,  and  to  love  her  brother  and  his 
young  friend  Allan,  two  fine,  brave-spirited, 
interesting  lads.  Almost  despairing  of  ever 
finding  his  own,  the  father,  who  had  grown 
old  and  lonely  with  his  long  burden  of  grief, 
attached  himself  to  these  children  ; and  they 
crept  into  his  sorrowing  heart,  and  soothed 
its  pangs,  and  made  cheerful  his  lonely  life. 
But  by  and  by  these  three  bright  minister- 
ing children  went  away  from  their  home, 
and,  lonely  and  weary  for  their  dear  faces, 
the  old  man  followed  them. 

" At  Chicago  an  old  paper  was  lying  in 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


125 


the  station-house,  and,  glancing  carelessly  at 
it,  and  in  that  swift  glance  catching  the 
name  of  one  of  his  young  friends,  the  old 
man  read  the  story  of  a terrible  fire  at  the 
west  — of  the  daring  bravery  of  his  young 
boy  friend  and  his  host  — of  the  rescue  of 
the  child  — the  death  of  the  poor  mother, 
and  then  — that  the  child  was  his  grand- 
daughter, the  mother  his  long-lost  Lulu 
May. 

" And  then,  in  the  same  paper,  he  read  Mr. 
Johnstone’s  notice  of  the  little  rescued  one, 
advertising  for  her  relatives.  Ah  ! that  poor, 
lonely  old  man  ! how  the  flying  train  which 
bore  him  to  Omaha  seemed  merely  to  crawl 
along ! how  he  longed  to  claim  his  baby, 
and  fold  her  to  his  heart ! His  grief  for  the 
poor  mother’s  fate  was  softened  by  thankful- 
ness for  the  child.  And  when  he  clasped 
her  in  his  arms,  and  looked  into  her  pure, 
dark  eyes,  — the  eyes  of  her  dead  father, 
but  pure  and  true,  — when  he  heard  her 
sweet  voice  and  stroked  her  soft  golden  hair, 


12G 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


it  seemed  as  if  his  own  little  daughter  nestled 
in  his  arms  ; and  all  he  could  do  for  this 
great  blessing  was  to  thank  his  heavenly 
Father,  and  bless  His  name  forever,  and  to 
owe  a debt  of  gratitude,  that  can  never  be 
cancelled,  to  the  brave  lad  Eric,  and  to  his 
warm  friend  Johnstone,  who  had  rescued  his 
darling  from  the  pitiless,  unrelenting  flames.” 
The  children’s  eyes  were  filled  with  tears, 
and  Marion  and  Johnstone  were  much  af- 
fected by  the  simple,  pathetic  narrative  of 
the  surgeon  general. 

Little  Lulu  May  could  not  understand  it 
all ; but  she  comprehended  that  her  mother 
had  been  mentioned,  and,  seeing  tears  in  the 
eyes  she  loved,  looked  up  imploringly. 

"What  for  you  ky?”  she  asked,  plain- 
tively : " mamma’s  an  angen.” 

"Yes,  darling,”  said  her  grandfather, 
pressing  her  close  to  his  heart  and  kissing 
her  again  and  again.  "Your  dear  mamma 
is  an  angel,  and  papa  is  with  her  in  heaven.” 
"An’  we’ll  be  good,  an’  go  to  heaven,  too 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  LAWN.  127 


— won’t  we?”  said  the  sweet-faced  little 
maiden,  gazing  upward  to  the  sky. 

Happy  indeed  were  the  children  at  John- 
stone’s Farm  ; happy,  and  with  hearts  full 
of  love  and  kindness  for  all. 

How  they  flew  about,  helping  Marion  to 
spread  a feast  for  Mike’s  followers,  under  the 
elm  trees,  on  the  lawn,  and  how  Johnstone 
rode  into  town  with  the  surgeon  general  and 
his  indispensable  companion,  Lulu  May,  and 
brought  back  a carriage  load  of  goodies,  and 
more  substantial  refreshments,  and  how  there 
was  another  little  festival  at  the  house,  and 
how  in  the  evening,  after  the  men  were  gone, 
the  children,  and  Mr.  Leonard,  and  the  sur- 
geon general,  and  Lulu  May  danced  with 
their  host  and  hostess  under  the  trees,  it 
would  take  a graphic  pen  to  describe. 


128 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DR.  FRANCIS. 

IT  is  a long  way  from  New  York  to 
Omaha,  as  Nettie  remarked  when  she 
made  the  journey.  And  now,  all  that  long 
way,  quite  a party  of  travellers  had  jour- 
neyed, all  bound  for  Johnstone’s  Farm,  and 
all  aboard  of  the  eastern  express  train,  soon 
due  at  Omaha  city. 

There  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hyde,  their 
faces  beaming  with  joy  in  anticipation  of 
seeing  the  two  dear  children  they  had  been 
parted  from  so  long.  There  was  Miss 
Mabel  Alicia  Hyde,  expressing  her  very 
important  opinion  upon  everything  she  saw 
and  heard,  and  asking  regularly  at  intervals 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


129 


of  six  seconds,  "Papa,  isn’t  we  mos’  there, 
papa  r 

To  which  papa’s  invariable  reply  was, 
" We  soon  will  be,  my  darling.” 

There  also  were  Thomas  Carmichael  and 
Robbie ; young  Mr.  Carmichael  having 
accepted  the  preceptorship  of  the  new  school 
at  Omaha,  and  Robbie  having  been  for- 
warded as  one  of  its  first  pupils  by  his  per- 
plexed and  worried  father,  who  rightly 
considered  the  streets  of  New  York  a very 
poor  training  school  for  a lad  of  Robbie’s 
fine  promise.  " No  fear  for  the  child  with 
Thomas,”  he  thinks  ; and  indeed  everybody 
shares  his  high  opinion  of  Thomas  Car- 
michael. 

Besides  all  these  there  was  Dr.  Francis, 
the  highly  eminent  German  oculist.  He  had 
returned  suddenly  to  New  York,  intending 
to  examine  Nettie’s  eyes  before  journeying 
to  San  Francisco,  and,  learning  that  the 
child  was  at  Omaha,  consented  to  take  that 
city  in  his  western  route. 

9 


130 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


" Omaha  city  ! ” shouted  the  conductor, 
from  the  door  of  the  car,  as  the  train  entered 
slowly  into  the  depot. 

" Hallo  ! Eric  Hyde  ! ” screamed  Robbie 
from  the  window,  at  the  same  time  thrusting 
out  his  head,  in  spite  of  Tom’s  caution,  — 

"Robbie,  take  care!  Look  out  for  your 
neck  ! ” 

" I’m  looking  out,”  answered  the  young 
hopeful.  "Well,  I never!  Mrs.  Hyde, 
Eric’s  hair  is  all  shaved  off,  and  he’s  black 
as  a nig.  My  ! how  his  wrists  and  ankles 
have  shot  through  his  clothes  ! I say,  Eric, 
what  a looking  coat ! ” 

"Robert!”  said  Tom,  severely;  and 
Robbie  subsided,  and  stared  hard  at  a boy 
who  appeared  to  be  bowing  and  smiling,  arid 
making  grimaces  at  him. 

" Why,  it’s  Allan  Ramsdell ! ” he  ex- 
claimed, presently,  in  a tone  of  great  sur- 
prise. " Black  ! my  gracious  ! Well,  what 
a country  ! ” 

The  train  now  stopped,  and  in  an  instant 


Allan’s  gkatitude.  131 


Eric  was  in  the  car,  hugging  and  kissing  his 
parents,  and  Allan  was  impatiently  waiting 
a chance  to  follow  his  example.  Miss  Mabel 
Alicia  buried  her  silky  curls  in  her  father’s 
neck,  and  would  not  look  at  either  of  the 
young  savages,  pretending  to  be  afraid  of 
them. 

" Baby  May,  you  little  gypsy,  stop  that, 
and  come  here,”  said  Eric,  attempting  to 
take  her  from  his  father.  But  little  Mabel, 
who  was  really  half  afraid,  began  to  cry. 

" And  Nettie  is  quite  well,  and  happy?” 
asked  the  mother,  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"Yes,  indeed,  mamma;  only  just  now 
she  is  impatient  to  see  you,”  began  Eric. 

He  was  interrupted  by  an  actual  shout 
from  the  demure,  well-behaved  Allan,  and, 
turning,  saw  him  spring  eagerly  forward, 
grasp  the  hand  of  a pale,  long-haired  young 
foreigner,  and  wring  it  heartily. 

"Allan  has  found  Dr.  Francis,”  said 
Mrs.  Hyde.  "How  grateful  he  is,  poor 
little  chap  ! ” 


132 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


For  this  Dr.  Francis,  in  days  gone  by, 
had  cured  Allan’s  blindness.  He  seemed 
quite  as  pleased  by  the  meeting  as  Allan 
himself,  and  expressed  his  surprise  at  the 
boy’s  altered  appearance. 

Is  it  the  Sioux  or  the  Camanche  tribe 
you  and  Eric  are  trying  to  resemble?”  asked 
Robbie.  " Hurry  up ! there’s  Mr.  John- 
stone, and  all  the  other  folks  are  out  of  the 
train.” 

They  were  not  long  following  the  example 
of  " all  the  other  folks.”  Johnstone  wel- 
comed them  heartily,  and  soon  all  were  on 
their  way  to  Marion  and  Nettie. 

Eric  drove  his  parents,  little  May,  and 
Dr.  Francis  in  the  carryall,  and  his  party 
arrived  first. 

Nettie,  eager  for  the  first  sound  of  the 
carriage  wheels,  stood  alone  upon  the 
veranda,  her  face  flushed  and  bright  with 
the  expectation  of  being  clasped  /hFher  dear 
father’s  arms,  and  kissed  and  embraced  by 
^he  dear  mother  and  little  May. 


THE  LESSON  LEARNED.  133 


So,  when  the  wheels  came  crashing  upon 
the  pebbles  in  the  drive-waj^  she  was  quite 
prepared  for  the  silvery  little  voice  that  rang 
out  in  a joyous  cry,  — - 

" Nennie,  Nennie  ! ” 

And  immediately  there  followed  the  moth- 
er’s tender  words,  — 

w Nettie,  my  darling  ! How  very  well  you 
are  looking,  child  ! ” 

And  then  Nettie  was  clasped  in  the  strong, 
kind  fathers  arms,  and  there  held  in  a loving 
embrace,  while  he  read,  in  her  sweet,  up- 
turned face,  that  the  bitter  lesson  his  darling 
had  learned  in  her  blindness  was  thoroughly 
learned,  and  never  to  be  forgotten.  For, 
before  Nettie  was  blind,  a wilful,  headstrong 
impulse  had  governed  her  entire  course  of 
action  ; now  there  was  something  in  her  face 
which  showed  her  to  be  gentle,  thoughtful, 
obedient,  and  contented. 

Dr.  Francis  had  not  yet  spoken  ; but  when 
Mrs.  Hyde  had  affectionately  greeted  the 
child,  still  retaining  her  hand,  she  said,  — 


134 


jotinstone’s  farm. 


ff  And  now,  my  darling,  I have  a still 
more  joyful  surprise  for  you.  What  we 
have  so  eagerly  desired,  so  long  hoped  and 
prayed  for,  has  happened.  Dr.  Francis  has 
come  from  Germany.” 

A glad  hope  shot  through  the  child’s  heart. 
She  trembled  and  grew  quite  pale  ; but  in  an 
instant  she  recovered  herself. 

" Is  he  in  New  York,  mamma?” 

" No,  dearest ; he  is  here.” 

Dr.  Francis  now  came  forward,  and  spoke 
to  the  little  patient,  in  whom  he  had  felt  such 
a great  interest  a year  before.  He  spoke  so 
kindly  and  pleasantly  as  to  put  poor  Nettie 
quite  at  her  ease.  She  held  out  her  hand  to 
him,  simply  saying,  — 

" I am  so  glad  you  have  come  ! ” 

And  Dr.  Francis,  who  threw  all  his  sym- 
pathetic expression  into  his  voice,  answered, 
gallantly,  — 

I am  very  glad  indeed  to  render  you  a 
service.  To-morrow  I will  see  what  can  be 


GOOD  NEWS  FOR  NETTIE.  135 

done  for  your  bright  eyes  ; to-day  let  us  see 
how  well  you  can  bear  a little  suspense.” 

Marion  had  borne  off  Mrs.  Hyde  and  Ma- 
bel, and  left  Eric  to  take  care  of  his  father 
and  the  doctor  ; so  Eric  marshalled  them  to 
their  rooms  in  the  great  stone  house.  Mr. 
Carmichael  and  Robbie  were  to  be  taken  to 
Farmer  Leonard’s,  by  his  especial  desire,  and 
Johnstone  and  Allan  had  gone  with  them,  to 
introduce  the  new  schoolmaster. 

Nettie  followed  her  parents,  relating,  in 
her  own  graphic  way,  while  they  were  lay- 
ing aside  their  travelling  garments,  all  the 
incidents  of  importance  which  had  occurred 
since  their  arrival  at  Johnstone’s  Farm  — 
the  fire ; the  brave  efforts  of  Eric  and  John- 
stone to  save  Lulu  May  ; the  boys  getting 
lost  on  the  prairie,  and  setting  it  afire ; 
Farmer  Leonard’s  kindness;  and,  finally, 
the  wonderful  discovery  that  dear  little  Lulu 
May  was  the  lost  grandchild  of  their  beloved 
surgeon  general. 

"He’  s gone  otf  to  walk  now,  mamma,  and 


136„  Johnstone’s  farm. 

taken  Lulu  May  with  him,  that  she  might 
not  trouble  Marion  when  you  came.  She’s 
a little  older  than  our  little  May,  and  such  a 
sweet  little  darling.” 

" Me  ? ” asked  her  little  sister  ; " me  sweet 
darling?  ” 

"Yes,  May,”  said  Nettie,  giving  her  a 
hug ; " and  there’s  another  little  girl  here, 
’most  as  sweet  as  you.” 

Then,  leaving  Mabel,  and  throwing  her 
arms  around  her  mother’s  neck,  she  whis- 
pered, — 

" Dear,  dear  mamma,  I’m  so  glad  to  get 
you  again  ! I’ve  longed  for  you  so,  and 
papa  ! ” 

Her  mother  returned  Nettie’s  embrace  with 
a pressure  that  spoke  volumes  of  love,  and 
the  father,  kissing  her  white  forehead,  said, 
tenderly,  — 

"We  will  not  send  you  off  again,  dear; 
we  had  no  idea  how  our  hearts  were  bound 
up  in  our  oldest  daughter.” 

" Me,  too,”  suggested  little  May,  tugging 


may  hyde’s  praises.  137 


at  her  papa’s  coat,  and  evidently  thinking 
Nettie  was  receiving  altogether  more  than 
her  share  of  attentions. 

Eric  came  for  her  just  then,  and  he  and 
Nettie  led  the  young  lady  down  stairs  to  in- 
troduce her  to  Lulu  May,  who  had  returned 
from  her  walk. 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  with  a good 
deal  of  curiosity  at  first ; then  little  May 
Hyde,  standing  on  tiptoe,  put  out  one  little 
fat  hand,  and  patting  the  astonished  Lulu 
May  in  a most  patronizing  way,  inquired, — 

" Isn’t  she  cunning?” 

In  the  hearty  laugh  which  followed,  both 
babies  joined,  and  instantly  became  fast 
friends.  Followed  by  Rex,  they  trotted 
around  hand  in  hand,  Lulu  May  doing  the 
honors,  and  little  Mabel  ITyde  chattering  at 
each  new  thing  she  noticed.  " ’At’s  nice; 
an’  ’at’s  nice  ; ’at’s  betterer  ’n  osser.  ’At’s 
mos’  as  good  as  gold.” 

Not  that  she  had  much  idea  of  the  value 
of  the  precious  metal,  but  because  her  nurse, 


138  JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 

in  New  York,  had  so  often  told  her  she  was 
a "dear  baby,  as  good  as  gold.”  The  little 
one  had  learned  the  phrase,  and  always  used 
it  when  she  could. 

Nettie  tried  to  be  merry  with  the  others, 
but  could  not  keep  from  her  mind  the  crisis 
of  the  morrow.  One  moment  her  heart  was 
buoyant  with  the  joyful  hope  of  again  re- 
ceiving her  sight,  and  the  next  it  was  sinking 
heavily  with  the  thought  that,  perhaps,  after 
all,  Dr.  Francis  might  say  her  blindness  was 
incurable. 

Allan  was  her  great  comforter.  He  under- 
stood it  all ; he  had  been  through  it  all ; all 
the  doubt,  and  the  longing,  and  fearing,  and 
the  painful  operation  which  might  come. 

" I will  tell  you,  Nettie,”  he  whispered, 
"what  helped  me  most  when  I suffered  so. 
I would  hope  one  minute,  and  dread  to  know 
the  decision  the  next ; and,  at  last,  I thought 
of  the  poor  blind  men  whom  the  Saviour 
cured.  And  I knelt  down  and  prayed  to 
God  to  give  me  perfect  faith  in  him,  and  to 


ALLAN’S  ADVICE. 


139 


give  me  his  strength  to  bear  the  trial.  And 
he  did,  Nettie  ; he  helped  me  to  be  calm  and 
patient  through  it  all.” 

"Thank  you,  Allan,”  said  Nettie,  softly; 
"I  will,  too.” 

Presently  she  was  missing  from  the  room, 
and  when  Eric  would  have  called  her,  Allan 
said,  " She  wanted  to  be  alone  a little  while.” 
When  she  again  joined  the  others,  the 
sweet  girl  was  more  calm,  and  less  anx- 
ious about  the  morrow,  than  any  of  the 
others. 

When  they  all  clustered  around  the  tea- 
table, — Thomas  Carmichael,  Mr.  Leonard, 
and  Robbie  being  of  the  number,  — it  was  im- 
possible for  any  one  to  have  gloomy  thoughts, 
for  there  were  so  many  merry  words  flung  at 
one  and  another,  so  much  New  York  news 
to  discuss,  and  so  many  messages  to  deliver, 
from  Laura  Carmichael,  Helen  Floyd,  and 
dear  Lillie  Hall,  — all  Nettie’s  schoolmates, 
— it  seemed  there  was  no  chance  to  think  of 
any  individual  care  or  trouble. 


140 


Johnstone’s  farm. 

Above  the  laughing  Babel  of  voices,  Dr. 

O o 

Francis  was  heard. 

"Eric,  I met  a friend  of  yours  at  Ham- 
burg, just  before  I came  over  the  sea.” 

" Not  Mr.  Lascelle  ? ” cried  Eric. 

" But  it  was  Mr.  Lascelle  : he  sent  his 
love  to  you  and  Count  D’Orsay’s  regards, 
and  the  count  sent  word  that  Arthur  Mont- 
gomery, whose  box  of  gold  sovereigns  you 
found  in  the  Zuyder  Zee,  was  cousin  to  your 
own  friend  Herbert  Stanley.” 

"Yes,  I know  it,”  said  Eric ; "at  least,  his 
son  is  cousin  to  Herbert.  They  are  at  Eton 
together.” 

"Was  Mr.  Lascelle  the  great  diver?” 
asked  Allan. 

"}Tes,  and  Count  D’Orsay  was  the  French 
nobleman  who  thought  Johnny  and  I took 
his  ring,  when  Froll  brought  it  into  our 
room.  By  the  by,  mamma,  how  is  Froll?” 

" The  little  monkey  the  count  told  me 
of?”  inquired  Dr.  Francis. 

"Yes,”  said  Mrs.  Hyde;  "she  got  Eric 


THE  PARROT  AND  MONKEY.  141 


and  his  cousin  Johnny  into  trouble  at  Stras- 
bourg. She  was  climbing  round  the  hotel, 
and,  attracted  to  the  count’s  room,  took  a 
valuable  diamond  ring  and  a purse  of  money, 
which  she  hid  in  a chair  in  the  boys’  room. 
It  was  thought  she  must  at  one  time  have 
belonged  to  a dishonest  person,  who  taught 
her  to  steal.  She  is  a great  thief  still,  but 
we  keep  her  chained.  She  was  quite  well, 
and  teasing  the  parrot, when  we  left  home ; 
but  I fear  the  little  thing  will  miss  us  sadly.” 
" Parrot,  mamma?  What  parrot?” 
"There!  did  I say  parrot?  Papa  will 
never  forgive  me.” 

Mr.  Hyde  laughed.  " Never  mind,  my 
dear;  tell  them.” 

"We  missed  poor  Polly,  who  died  when 
we  were  in  Germany,  so  much  that  papa 
bought  another  of  the  amusing  birds.  We 
meant  to  let  you  children  find  her  your- 
selves. She  is  very  accomplished.” 

"She  sings,”  put  in  May,  singing  her- 
self, — 


142 


Johnstone’s  farm. 


“Nennie  By,  Nennie  By, 

Bing-e  boom-e  ’long; 

Sweep-e  kitchen  kean,  O dear, 

Have-e  ’ittle  song.” 

"But  she  doesn’t  say,  'You  naughty  girl, 
tie  up  your  shoes,’  I hope,”  said  Allan. 

Nettie  colored  : that  was  the  way  in  which 
the  old  Polly  always  saluted  her. 

"You’re  not  fair,  Allan,”  said  Eric,  laugh- 
ing : " that  was  when  Nettie  was  quite  a little 
girl ; she  is  almost  too  careful  now.” 

The  babies  began  to  grow  sleepy,  and 
Johnstone  proposed  that  as  all  the  travellers 
must  be  tired  with  the  long  jaunt  they  had 
taken,  they  should  have  early  prayers  and 
sing  a hymn  while  the  little  ones  were  with 
them. 

So  all  went  into  the  bright,  pleasant 
parlor,  and  while  a flood  of  glory  shone  in 
upon  them  from  the  western  sky,  they 
listened  to  a psalm  of  praise,  and  to  the  par- 
able of  the  blind  men  whose  eyes  were 
touched  by  the  Master’s  hand,  read  out  in 


PRAYER  AND  PRAISE. 


143 


Johnstone’s  clear,  strong  voice,  with  a ten- 
der thrill  that  told  Nettie  she  was  in  his 
thoughts ; then,  kneeling  reverently,  they 
prayed  with  him,  thanking  the  Lord  for  His 
great  goodness  to  them,  and  asking  a con- 
tinuance of  His  blessings  through  their  lives. 

It  was  a short,  simple  prayer ; but  they  all 
felt  that  their  names  were  in  the  good  man’s 
mind,  and  that  for  each  was  asked  the  pe- 
culiar blessing  needed,  and  a sense  of  peace 
and  security  fell  upon  them  all.  Then  the 
hymn  was  sung,  with  happy  voices,  in  notes 
of  cheerful  praise. 

The  boys  walked  across  the  fields  with 
Mr.  Leonard,  Mr.  Carmichael,  and  Robbie. 
Johnstone  took  Mr.  Hyde  and  Dr.  Francis 
around  the  farm  ; the  surgeon  general  strolled 
off  with  his  cigar  ; the  babies  were  put  to  bed, 
and  Nettie  was  left,  at  last,  alone  with  her 
mother. 


144  JOHNSTONE’S  FARM, 


HE  next  day  Dr.  Francis  examined 


Nettie’s  eyes.  She  sat  on  a low  foot- 
stool, her  head  thrown  back  in  her  mother’s 
lap,  and  both  hands  fast  in  her  mother’s 
hands.  The  doctor  bent  over,  making  a 
careful  examination.  Suddenly  he  spoke. 

" Can  you  tell  when  you  are  in  light  or 
darkness?  that  is,  I mean,  if  a strong  light 
falls  upon  your  eyes,  can  you  perceive  it?” 

Nettie  sat  facing  a broad  stream  of  sun- 
light through  the  window.  As  he  spoke  the 
doctor  raised  one  hand,  holding  it  so  as  to 
shade  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  sir,”  answered  Nettie;  "I  can  tell 
light  from  darkness  ; I always  could.  Some- 
thing is  between  me  and  the  light  now.’' 


CHAPTER  XI 


NETTIE  S BLINDNESS  CURED 


DR.  FRANCIS’  EXPLANATION.  145 


"I  am  glad  to  know  that.  It  makes  my 
task  less  difficult,  and  yours  less  painful. 
You  may  rest  yourself  now  ; but  first  1 will 
tell  you  that  there  is  every  prospect  of 
your  having  good,  sound  eyes  again,  and 
shortly.” 

The  hands  which  Mrs.  Hyde  held  tight- 
ened their  grasp,  and  Nettie’s  lips  quiv- 
ered, and  a few  thankful  tears  fell.  The 
doctor,  to  quiet  her  and  turn  her  attention, 
continued,  — 

" I have  often  thought,  Mrs.  Hyde,  you 
must  have  wondered  why  I persisted  in 
my  opinion,  in  the  face  of  all  the  consult- 
ing physicians,  when  your  daughter  was 
injured. 

"The  truth  was,  that  ten  or  twelve  months 
before  the  time  I observed  her  in  an  art 
gallery  at  Hamburg,  and  the  peculiar  way  in 
which  she  used  her  eyes  led  me  to  suspect 
that  cataract  was  forming  in  them.  I spoke 
to  her,  asking  her  name ; and  when  she 
turned  her  eyes  directly  upon  me,  my  long 
10 


146  johnstone’s  farm. 

experience  of  such  cases  led  me  to  detect 
the  disease  at  once. 

r My  pity,  for  the  child  led  me  to  seek 
you,  and  explain  how  the  case  should  be 
carefully  watched  ; but  unfortunately  I mis- 
took her  directions,  and  did  not  find  you.  I 
often  thought  of  the  child,  sympathizing 
deeply  with  her,  because  I had  been  through 
it  all  myself,  you  know  ; but  I never  found 
any  clew  to  her  until  the  day  of  her  fall, 
when  I picked  her  up  from  the  bottom  of 
the  flight  of  school  steps,  and  bore  her  home 
in  my  arms. 

" I knew  then  that,  after  such  a severe 
blow  as  she  received,  cataract  would  speedily 
cover  both  eyes,  aggravated  by  the  injuries 
received.  I could  not  make  the  consulting 
physicians  agree  with  me,  however,  and, 
being  obliged  to  return  to  Germany,  left 
you  my  address,  sadly  confident  that  my 
predictions  would  be  fulfilled. 

" When  I received  Dr.  Maynard’s  letter, 
I had  decided  to  comply  with  Mr.  Hyde’s 


the  doctor’s  kindness.  147 

request,  and  return  to  New  York  ; but  Dr. 
Maynard’s  description  of  the  case  satisfied 
me  that  it  would  be  well  to  delay  an  oper- 
ation, on  several  accounts.  The  time  has 
now  come  when  an  attempt  to  restore  the 
sight  may  be  made  without  danger,  and 
with  every  hope  of  success.  I will  speak 
to  Mr.  Hyde  now,  and  in  a few  minutes 
will  return  to  perform  the  operation.” 

Before  either  Nettie  or  her  mother  could 
speak,  he  had  hurried  from  the  room,  leav- 
ing them  alone  together. 

" How  kind  he  is  ! ” said  Nettie,  laying 
her  head  again  in  the  mother’s  lap.  " I 
wanted  to  be  alone  a minute.  Mamma, 
dear,  do  not  worry  for  me,  and  do  not  stay 
to  see  it  done ; it  will  grieve  you  so  to 
think  I am  being  hurt.  Papa  and  Dr. 
Maynard  will  both  be  in  here;  and  indeed, 
dear  mamma,  I do  not  dread  it  at  all ; 
only  take  the  children  where  I cannot  hear 
them,  and  ask  Eric  and  Allan  not  to  talk. 
And,  mamma,  while  it  is  being  done,  I 


148 


JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


shall  try  to  think  only  of  the  blind  men 
of  Galilee,  and  the  others  whom  Jesus 
cured.” 

Mrs.  Hyde  knew  by  the  pale,  resolute 
face,  upturned  to  hers,  that  Nettie  meant 
to  meet  her  trial  bravely.  She  had  only 
time  to  press  a kiss  upon  the  sweet  lips, 
and  tell  her  little  daughter  " mamma  would 
pray  for  her,”  and  she  must  "keep  up  a 
good  heart,”  when  the  doctor,  with  Mr. 
Hyde  and  the  surgeon  general,  entered  the 
room,  and,  fearing  to  trust  herself,  she 
motioned  her  husband  to  take  her  place  by 
Nettie’s  side. 

Fortunately  for  Nettie’s  composure,  she 
could  not  see  the  sharp  steel  instruments 
and  the  bandages  laid  out  for  use,  and  Dr. 
Francis  mercifully  refrained  from  rattling  the 
knives  and  needles.  Kindly  diverting  her 
mind  with  an  amusing  story  of  his  own 
life,  he  placed  her  head  in  the  proper  posi- 
tion, so  that  it  leaned  against  her  father’s 
breast.  The  father  held  her  two  trembling 


REMOVING  THE  CATARACT.  149 


hands  with  a grasp  which  seemed  to  revive 
her  sinking  courage,  and  kindly  old  Dr. 
Maynard  was  waiting,  ready  to  assist  the 
oculist. 

It  seemed  very,  very  quiet.  " Could  she 
bear  the  pain  ? ” Nettie  was  beginning  to 
think. 

Her  father  whispered,  " Remember,  my 
darling,  you  have  nothing  to  lose,  and 
everything  to  gain.” 

Then  the  doctors  began  the  work. 

It  was  a long  and  painful  operation,  much 
worse  than  Nettie  had  anticipated.  With 
every  movement  of  the  knives  there  came 
throes  and  pangs  which  sometimes  made 
the  brave  little  girl  cry  out  and  moan  with 
pain. 

It  was  almost  worse  for  the  poor  father, 
for,  besides  witnessing  his  daughter’s  agony, 
he  was  obliged  to  see  all  the  cutting  and 
working  of  the  cruel  needles  and  knives. 
His  heart  bled  for  the  poor  child.  His  face 
was  very  pale,  but  the  hands  which  Nettie 


150  Johnstone’s  farm. 


grasped  were  firm  and  steady,  and  inspired 
the  child  with  courage  by  their  fervent 
pressure. 

After  what  seemed  to  poor  Nettie  a very 
long  while,  there  came  a flash  of  light  to  the 
eyes  so  long  immured  in  darkness.  For  one 
swift  instant  she  saw  the  blue  sky,  green 
waving  trees,  and  the  kind,  serious  face  of 
Dr.  Francis  above  her. 

w O,  papa,  papa!”  she  murmured,  too 
full  of  thankfulness  to  trust  herself  to 
words.  While  the  now  happy  father  utter- 
ed a reverential  " Thank  God  ! ” 

Brave,  joyful  little  Nettie,  she  could 
scarcely  realize  the  truth.  Dr.  Francis  had 
allowed  her  no  second  glimpse.  The  ban- 
dages were  instantly  applied,  and  she  was  in 
darkness  again.  But  this  time,  O,  how 
different ! She  knew  that  when  the  ban- 
dages were  removed  again  she  would  have 
© © 

her  blessed  sight. 

The  dear  mother  knelt  above  her,  and 
Nettie  murmured,  " Mamma,  mamma,  it  is 


Nettie’s  sight  restored.  151 


over ! I saw , mamma,  and  soon  I may 
look  again  upon  your  dear  faces.  I shall 
see  the  sky,  and  the  trees,  and  flowers,  and 
birds,  and  every  dear,  beautiful  thing  in  the 
world ! I am  almost  too  happy  ! ” and 
smiles  and  tears  mingled  on  her  sweet,  pale 
face. 

Dr.  Francis  here  asserted  his  authority. 
Nettie  must  keep  still.  Perfect  quiet  was 
absolutely  essential.  He  explained  to  her 
how  important  it  was  for  her  to  restrain  all 
emotion,  and  how  her  eyes  were  already 
greatly  fatigued  by  the  operation,  and  that 
they  must  have  complete  rest,  and  the  more 
quiet  she  kept  now  the  sooner  she  would 
be  able  to  dispense  with  the  bandages. 

So  Nettie  made  an  heroic  effort  to  be  com- 
posed. The  surgeon  general,  who  loved  the 
child  nearly  as  well  as  her  parents,  was 
actually  sobbing,  and  Mrs.  Hyde  knew 
Nettie  could  not  control  herself  if  she  noticed 
it,  for  she  was  weak  and  faint,  and  trembled 
violently.  So  her  mother  and  Marion  led 


152 


joiinstone’s  farm. 


her  to  her  own  room.  Dr.  Francis  shut  out 
every  ray  of  light,  and  turned  all  but  Mrs. 
Hyde  from  the  apartment.  Then  Nettie 
lay  down,  and  her  mother,  sitting  beside 
her,  soothed  and  quieted  her  until  she  fell 
asleep. 


LIGHT  BREAKING. 


153 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  END  OF  THE  SUMMER. 

DR.  FRANCIS  was  very  arbitrary,  and 
kept  his  patient’s  eyes  in  close  confine- 
ment for  two  weeks.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  he  removed  the  bandages,  substituting 
a light  shade,  and  still  keeping  the  room 
quite  dark.  Then,  gradually,  he  admitted 
more  light  as  her  eyes  could  bear  it,  and 
finally  allowed  her  to  discard  the  shade 
entirely. 

While  she  was  kept  quietly  in  her  room, 
though  the  time  seemed  long,  Nettie  was 
happy.  All  tried  to  make  her  imprisonment 
lightsome,  and  there  was  a subdued  glad- 
someness in  every  voice.  Dr.  Maynard  and 
Johnstone  told  her  stories.  The  boys  ran 


154  Johnstone’s  farm. 


out  and  in  with  bits  of  news,  and  plans  of 
what  they  would  do  when  she  could  join 
them.  The  babies  kept  her  merry,  Marion 
sang  to  her,  and  her  father  read  and  talked ; 
but  most  of  all,  Nettie  clung  to  her  mother, 
whose  gentle  patience  was  never  tired,  whose 
hands  were  always  willing  to  smooth  the 
tired  brow,  whose  caresses  were  always 
soothing,  and  whose  loving  words  were 
always  ready  to  fall  when  the  child  grew 
tired  or  discouraged. 

Dr.  Maynard  went  back  to  New  York, 
taking  his  Lulu  May  and  her  faithful  Rex 
with  him,  before  Nettie  got  about.  And 
Allan  Ramsdell  went  to  his  uncle’s  at  Des 
Moines  for  a week.  The  school  term  besran 
in  Omaha  city,  and  Thomas  Carmichael 
filled  its  preceptor’s  office.  He  had  written 
home  to  his  sister  Laura,  telling  her  of 
Nettie’s  recovered  sight ; and  the  message 
must  have  been  a very  glad  one  to  Laura, 
for  she  had  caused  the  accident  which  had 
made  Nettie  blind,  and  had  bitterly  mourned 


EFFECT  OF  TOM’S  LETTER.  155 


the  dreadful  result.  Tom  also  * wrote  that 
Robbie  was  doing  finely  in  the  school,  that 
Billy,  a younger  brother,  must  be  sent  to 
him,  and  that  he'  wished  his  father  would 
move  all  the  family  to  Omaha  city,  and 
repair  his  shattered  health  and  fortune  in 
that  healthy,  productive  region. 

He  did  not  have  much  hope  of  inducing 
his  father  to  move  to  the  west ; but  his  letter 
happened  to  suggest  a very  advisable  step  : 
besides,  Mr.  Carmichael  was  very  lonesome 
for  his  oldest  boy.  So  it  was,  that  Tom, 
delighted  and  surprised,  received  a letter, 
authorizing  him  to  find  a house  for  his 
father,  Laura,  Billy,  and  the  twins,  and  big 
enough  to  include  himself  and  Robbie.  Mrs. 
Johnstone  was  requested  to  find  a good 
housekeeper  and  servant,  and  they  would 
hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  start  for 
Omaha  as  soon  as  they  heard  from  Tom. 

The  principal  of  the  Grant  Academy  could 
hardly  believe  this  good  news.  He  con- 
sulted Johnstone  and  Mr.  Hyde.  and  found 


156  JOHNSTONE’S  FARM. 


that  both  were  very  much  in  favor  of  the 
project. 

" Indeed,”  confessed  Mr.  Hyde,  "I  have 
almost  decided  to  remove  here  myself.  I 
think  I shall  next  year.” 

Farmer  Leonard  happened  to  call  during 
the  discussion  of  where  a house  might  be 
obtained  for  Mr.  Carmichael,  and  he  at  once 
settled  that  question  by  offering  his  own. 

He  intended  to  go  abroad  for  a year  or 
two,  he  said,  and  they  might  occupy  his 
house.  He  would  be  glad  to  know  it  was 
in  good  hands.  Tom  gratefully  accepted  it, 
and  wrote  to  his  father  of  Mr.  Leonard’s  kind- 
ness. Marion  told  him  of  a good,  motherly 
woman,  who  would  make  a most  excellent 
housekeeper,  and  promised  to  engage  her. 
The  Hydes  were  going  back  to  New  York 
in  a few  days,  and  Nettie,  as  soon  as  Dr. 
Francis  allowed  it,  made  the  most  of  her 
freedom.  She  and  Eric  explored  every 
nook  and  corner  of  Mr.  Leonard’s  house,  and 
made  themselves  very  happy  planning  for 


MR.  LEONARD’S  ADVICE.  157 


grand  good  times  with  Laura  and  Robbie 
in  the  dear  old  place  when  next  summer 
came. 

" We  couldn’t  bear  to  have  you  go  away 
if  we  were  going  to  be  here,  Mr.  Leonard,” 
said  Nettie  to  him.  " You  have  been  so  kind 
to  us,  wre  should  miss  you  dreadfully.  But 
you’ll  be  having  a good  time  in  foreign 
countries  while  we’re  moping  in  school  at 
home.” 

"Ah,”  replied  Mr.  Leonard,  "what  would 
I not  give  for  your  precious  school  days  ! 
Make  the  most  of  them,  my  dear  young 
friends ; when  you  are  as  old  as  I am,  you 
will  wish  they  had  been  twice  as  long,  and 
you  had  studied  twice  as  hard.  I shall  leave 
Lance  with  Mr.  Johnstone,  and  when  you 
return  next  summer,  he  will  be  at  your  dis- 
posal, as  he  is  now,  Nettie.” 

"But  won’t  you  be  here  next  summer, 
too?”  asked  the  little  girl,  with  a tone  of 
regret. 

" No  ; I shall  not  see  you  again  until  you 


158  johnstone’s  farm. 

are  quite  a young  lady.  I intend  to  travel 
for  a while,  and  then  I shall  settle  down  and 
try  to  do  some  good  in  the  world.  I was  a 
minister  before  little  Bertie  died.  I may 
preach  again.” 

The  children  were  silent.  They  did  not 
know  what  to  say  to  this  man,  who  stood 
confessing  the  wasted  years  of  his  life  to 
them.  He  was  their  kind,  good  friend,  and 
they  loved  him  dearly. 

Nettie  spoke  at  length. 

" Mr.  Leonard,  you  have  done  us  all  good. 
We  all  love  you,  and  we  hope,  wherever  you 
are,  and  whatever  you  do,  you  will  be  as 
happy  as  you  have  made  us.” 

" Thank  you,  Nettie  ; I trust  the  Lord  will 
bless  my  efforts.  And,  children,”  he  con- 
tinued, earnestly,  w let  my  life  be  a lesson  to 
you.  If  sorrows  and  misfortunes  overtake 
you,  live  them  bravely  down.  Trust  in  the 
Lord.  He  will  deliver  you  from  trouble  : 
lie  has  given  his  promise.” 


THE  NOVEL  PETS. 


159 


Slowly  and  thoughtfully  the  children 
walked  home  across  the  field. 

They  longed  to  keep  those  last  days  at 
Johnstone’s  Farm  from  the  flight  of  Time, 
for  as  each  one  passed  they  felt  sadly  that 
their  pleasant  summer  was  almost  at  an 
end. 

It  took  a long  time  to  say  good  by  to  all 
their  pleasant  walks  and  drives,  and  to  their 
pets  upon  the  farm.  Nettie  almost  cried 
over  Lance,  and  Eric  shed  a few  unseen 
tears  over  the  ponies,  and  Karl,  and  Don. 
Baby  May  was  in  ecstasies  at  the  thought  of 
going  home,  and  the  others  regarded  her 
with  compassion. 

All  Matty’s  efforts  were  put  forth  to  cap- 
ture a family  of  prairie  dogs  for  the  children 
to  take  home  as  pets,  and  on  the  day  before 
their  departure,  with  Nakona’s  help,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  catching  two.  They  were  put  in 
a cage  for  their  long  journey,  and  were  the 
admiration  and  delight  of  New  York  boys 
and  girls  for  several  months  after. 


160  Johnstone’s  farm. 


I)r.  Francis  went  off  with  Mr.  Leonard. 
Both  promised  to  see  the  Hydes  in  their  city 
home,  and  Mr.  Carmichael  arrived  with  his 
family,  and  took  possession  of  Mr.  Leonard’s 
house.  * 

Laura  was  delighted  to  find  that  Nettie’s 
two  eyes  were  as  clear  and  sharp-sighted  as 
her  own.  She  confided  to  Nettie  that  sirs 
had  never  forgiven  herself  the  quarrel  whose 
accidental  result  had  brought  about  the 
blindness. 

" It  was  all  for  the  best,”  said  Nettie, 
cheerily.  " Dr.  Francis  said  I must  have 
been  blind  at  some  time,  and  if  it  hadn’t 
been  then,  he  wouldn’t  have  known  about  it, 
and  I might  never  have  been  cured.” 

Then  she  took  Laura  to  see  Lance,  and 
told  her  Mr.  Leonard  had  given  his  per- 
mission for  Laura  to  use  him  when  she  liked. 
And  Laura  delightedly  patted  and  smoothed 
his  glossy  black  head,  and  praised  him  to 
Nettie’s  content. 

"We’ve  had  such  a splendid  time  here  ! 


THE  PARTING. 


161 


You’re  sure  to  see  us  next  year,”  the  children 
said,  at  parting. 

” Providence  permitting,”  interposed  their 
father. 

” I sincerely  hope  we  shall  see  you,”  cried 
Laura.  ”1  shall  look  forward  to  that  pros- 
pect  joyfully.” 

The  next  day  Johnstone  and  Marion  were 
alone. 

They  missed  the  bright,  eager  faces  very 
much,  from  their  grand  grea'tr' house.  Losing 
Lulu  May,  too,  they  were  very  lonely.  But 
Laura,  and  Robbie,  and  Billy,  and  the  twins 
often  found  their  way  over  the  fields  to  the 
stone  house,  and  did  their  best  to  dissipate 
its  loneliness,  leaving  their  father  a quiet 
time  at  home,  in  which  to  plan  the  best  way 
of  providing  for  their  future. 

lie  was  a kind,  affectionate  father  now'. 
Trouble  had  drawn  his  children  closer  to  his 
heart,  and  h§  was  beginning  to  find  their 
love  and  confidence  vastly  more  comforting 
and  precious  than  the  wealth  and  luxuries  he 
11 


162 


Johnstone’s  farm. 

lmd  lost.  So  he  planned,  and  devised,  and 
worked  for,  and  loved  them  as  he  never  had 
done  before  ; and  the  children,  in  their  turn, 
rewarded  him  with  their  love  and  helpful 
obedience,  respecting  him,  and  pitying  the 
poor,  weak  mother,  who  could  not  share  the 
hardships  of  their  western  life,  and  had  de- 
cided to  live  with  her  sister  in  New  York, 
leaving  her  little  ones  to  be  cared  for  by  the 
housekeeper. 

Fortunately  she  was  a good,  pious  woman  ; 

and  Marion  was  their  faithful  friend,  wisely 

counselling  Laura,  and  aiding  her  in  her 
© " © 

efforts  to  supply  the  mother’s  place  to  her 
father  and  brothers,  until  she  became  so  wise, 
and  kind,  and  thoughtful,  that  her  word  was 
law  with  the  little  ones,  and  her  father, 
Tom,  and  Robbie  became  quite  dependent 
upon  their  Laura. 

Nettie,  Eric,  and  Allan,  away  in  their 
New  York  homes,  looked  eagerly  forward  to 
their  next  visit  to  Omaha  city.  They  went 
back  to  their  books  resolved  to  act  upon 


THE  END. 


163 


Mr.  Leonard’s  advice,  and  make  the  most 
of  their  school  days  while  they  lasted. 

The  lessons  they  had  learned  from  their 
western  friends  were  neither  forgotten  nor 
neglected,  and  the  three  became  greater 
favorites  at  school  and  more  beloved  at  home 
than  ever  before.  And  in  this  performance 
of  their  duty  they  found  themselves  quite  as 
happy  through  the  swiftly  flying  year  as 
when  their  merry  laughter  and  glad  young 
voices  rang  out  over  the  fields  of  Johnstone’s 
Farm. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE’S  BOOKS. 


THE  LITTLE  MASTER. 


Cloth.  230  pages.  $1.25. 


Mr.  Trowbridge’s  stories  are  perhaps  most  popular  with  young  people,  but 
older  people,  and  teachers  especially,  will  be  interested  in  this  little  book.  It  will 
recall  to  many  the  early  days  of  their  experience  as  a teacher;  and  the  hero,  Chauneey 
Mayhew,  will  be  sure  to  obtain  their  sympathy,  as  much  as  his  trials  and  victories 
will  excite  their  interest.  The  story  begins  with  a disappointment  for  the  young 
teacher.  This  is  nothing  new  in  the  experience  of  a teacher;  in  fact,  it  belongs  to 
the  natural  order  of  events,  for  a teacher,  no  matter  how  successful,  must  certainly 
start  out  with  disappointments.  In  the  present  case,  Chauneey  Mayhew’s  disappoint, 
ment  is  speedily  followed  by  encouragement.  He  has  the  fortune  to  make  an  im- 
pression upon  the  son  (and  a very  self-willed  son,  too)  of  the  chairman  of  the  school 
committee.  The  chairman  i-s  virtually  the  whole  committee,  and  through  the  in- 
fluence of  the  son,  Chauneey  receives  the  appointment  to  ‘ keep  school  ’ in  the  Mount 
Dustan  district.  His  experiences  in  this  district,  with  both  the  scholars  and  the 
committee,  form  the  ‘ meat’  of  twenty-five  chapters  of  the  book.  He  resigned  : why, 
is  told  in  the  last  chapter.  There  are  several  illustrations  scattered  throughout  the 
book,  which  picture  the  most  telling  incidents  in  the  story.  It  is  needless  to  say  the 
story  is  well  told;  that  is  presumed  as  a matter  of  course,  for  all  of  Mr.  Trow- 
bridge’s stories  have  been  well  told.  This  story  has  appeared  in  one  of  the  Boston 
periodicals,  and  had  a large  circulation;  which  fact,  outside  of  its  author’s  name, 
will  tend  to  make  it  popular.”  — School  Journal . 

“The  more  stories  Mr.  Trowbridge  can  write, the  better  for  the  boys  of  this 
generation.  Flooded  as  ou-  country  is  with  literature  of  a dime-novel  order,  we  have 
need  of  just  such  safe  and  interesting  books  as  The  Little  Master,  ‘ Phil  and  His 
Friends,’ ‘ Bound  in  Honor,’ etc.,  to  put  into  the  hands  of  our  growing  boys.”  — 
Living  Church. 

"-  No  more  need  be  said  than  that  Mr.  Trowbridge  has  written  a book  for  the 
?oys,  that  has  all  the  art  and  fascination  of  his  other  boys’  books,  with  as  much 
genuine  philosophy  of  life.  This  author’s  success  lies  largly  in  his  power  to  write 
vith  a purpose,  but  without  the  objectionable  moral.  The  success  of  the  little  schooi- 
naster  has  many  a good  point  by  which  boys  will  profit,  while  they  read  with 
nterest.  Many  a teacher  could  profit  by  reading  of  this  plucky  little  schoolmaster.” 
— Journal  of  Education. 


BOSTON:  LEE  AND  SHEPjluD , PUBLISHERS. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE’S  BOOKS 


THE  SATIN-WOOD  BOX. 


Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 


“The  Satin-Wood  Box  ” is  a story  for  juvenile  readers  which  bears  the  name  ot 
J.  T.  Trowbridge  as  its  author.  This  is  sufficient  guarantee  to  parents,  who  are 
in  search  of  wholesome  but  entertaining  literature  for  their  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  high  character  of  the  book.  Mr.  Trowbridge  always  has  a purpose  in  hi9 
writings,  and  this  time  he  has  undertaken  to  show  how  very  near  an  innocent  hoy 
can  come  to  the  guilty  edge,  and  yet  be  able,  by  fortunate  circumstances,  to  rid 
himself  of  all  suspicion  of  evil.  There  is  something  very  winsome  about  Gifford 
Norcroft,  the  hero  ; but  he  has  a singular  way  of  falling  into  bad  luck,  although 
the  careful  reader  will  never  feel  the  least  disposed  to  doubt  his  honesty.  The 
story  is  exceedingly  profitable,  although  painful  at  times.  But  it  is  just  the  pain 
and  the  perplexity  which  impart  to  the  story  its  intense  interest,  and  will  makeita 
useful  story  to  b>ys  who  wish  incentives  to  courage.  It  is  issued  as  one  of  the 
volumes  of  the  Tide-Mill  Series,  of  which  “ Phil  and  his  Friends,”  and  “ Tinkham 
Brothers’  Tide-Mill,”  by  the  same  author,  have  already  found  thousands  of  read- 
ers. There  are  several  illustrations  in  the  book,  which  help  to  explain  the  situa- 
tion. — Syracuse  Standard. 

Almost  as  much  cculd  justly  be  said  in  favor  of  this  book  as  we  said  of  Mr. 
Trowbridge’s  story  two  years  ago,  “ The  Tinkham  Brothers’  Tide-Mill.”  It  is  a 
volume  in  the  same  series  and  its  purpose  is  in  the  same  line,  the  inculcation  of 
high  moral  ideas.  While  Mr.  Trowbridge  is  not  exactly  a lay  preacher,  he  certainly 
is  a teacher  of  morality.  The  “ Tide-Mill  ” story  illustrates  the  power  and  the 
diguity  of  steady  perseverance,  pluck  and  courage.  The  story  of  “The  Satin- 
Wood  Box  ” (the  very  title  tells  the  tale)  shows  how  an  honest  boy  may  and  did 
come  very  near  to  the  brink  of  crime  through  giving  his  companions  too  large  a 
hold  upon  his  conscience.  The  story  is  exciting  but  not  unhealthily  so,  and  it  keeps 
the  reader’s  sympathy  right  along  on  the  side  of  innocence  assailed.  While  it  is 
a boys’  book,  there  is  no  lack  of  interest  in  it  for  girls. — Christian  Advocate. 

Mr.  J . T.  Trowbridge’s  new  story,  Hie  Satin-Wood  Box,  is  the  third  of  the  “Tide- 
Mill  Series,”  and  tells  an  interesting  and  exciting  story  in  that  spirited  and  real- 
istic style  for  which  its  prolific  author  is  justly  celebrated.  The  plot  is  strong,  and 
is  marked  by  vigorous  dramatic  force  ; the  characters  are  vividly  sketched,  and 
the  book  is  certain  to  delight  the  young  readers  for  whose  entertainment  and  in 
ttruetion  it  was  written.— Boston  Gazette* 


BOSTON:  LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE’S  BOOKS. 


THE  POCKET  RIFLE. 


Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1,25. 


“ Mr.  J.  T.  Trowbridge  renews  liis  acquaintance  this  year  with  his  world  ri 
admiring  young  readers  by  the  Pocket  Rifle,  a hoy’s  story  which  will  be  read 
with  avidity,  as  it  ought  to  he,  it  is  so  brightly  and  frankly  written,  and  with  such 
evident  knowledge  of  the  temperaments  and  habits,  the  friendships  and  enmities 
of  schoolboys.  It  is  a little  novel,  with  two  heroes,  who  are  skilfully  drawn 
against  a background  of  New  England  country  landscape.  The  Pocket  Rifle 
is  just  the  book,  metaphorically  speaking,  to  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot.” 
— New  York  Mail. 

“ This  is  a capital  story  for  boys.  Trowbridge  never  tells  a story  poorly. 
This  teaches  honesty,  integrity,  and  'riendship,  and  how  best  they  can  be  pro- 
moted. It  shows  the  danger  of  hasty  judgment  and  circumstantial  evidence ; 
that  right-doing  pays,  and  dishonesty  never.”  — Chicago  Inter- Ocean. 

“ Few  books  will  delight  the  youthful  readers  more  than  this  latest  of  that  ad- 
mirable story-teller,  J.  T.  Trowbridge.  His  books  are  always  free  from  those 
pernicious  influences  derived  from  so  many  of  boys’  books  and  papers,  and  are  not 
a whit  less  interesting. 

BOUND  IN  HONOR; 


Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 


“ A capital  book  in  all  respects,  overflowing  with  all  sorts  of  fun  and  adven- 
ture ; just  the  sort  of  book,  in  short,  that  the  young  folks  will  be  anxious  to  read 
and  re-read  with  as  much  continuous  interest  as  the  most  favored  of  their  story- 
books.” — Philadelphia  Leader. 

" The  glimpses  we  get  of  New  England  character  are  free  from  any  distor- 
tion, and  the  delineation  of  their  humorous  phases  is  always  very  entertaining, 
Mr.  Trowbridge’s  undoubtedly  brilliant  descriptive  faculty  is  shown  to  gre.it 
advantage  in  the  opening  chapter  of  this  book  by  a vivid  picture  of  a village  fire, 
and  is  manifested  elsewhere  with  equally  telling  effect.” — Poston  Courier. 

“ This  is  a charming  story.  It  is  of  a lad  who  though  not  guilty  of  an  act 
performed  by  other  bad  boys,  was  an  eye-witness  and  felt  ‘bound  in  honor  ’ not 
to  tell.  It  is  full  of  good  things,  and  lias  the  unmistakable  ring  of  the  right  in  its 
teachings.  It  is  a boy’s  book.” 


BOSTON:  LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS. 


OLIVER  OPTIC’S  BOOKS. 


THE  GREAT  WESTERN 

SERIES. 

Six  Volumes,  Illustrated.  Per  vol..  $1.50. 


1.  GOING  WEST; 

Or,  The  Perils  of  a Poor  Boy 

2.  OUT  WEST; 

Or,  Roughing  it  on  the  Great  Lakes. 

3.  LAKE  BREEZES; 

Or,  The  Cruise  of  the  Sylvania. 

4.  GOING  SOUTH; 

Or,  Yachting  on  the  Atlantic  Coa*L 

5.  DOWN  SOUTH; 

Or,  Yacht  Adventures  in  Florida.  (In  Press. 

6.  UP  THE  RIVER ; 

Or,  Yachting  on  the  Mississippi.  (In  Press., 

This  is  the  latest  series  of  books  issued  by  this  populai 
writer,  and  deals  with  Life  on  the  Great  Lakes,  for  which  a 
‘areful  study  was  made  by  the  author  in  a summer  tour  of  the 
immense  water  sources  of  America.  The  story,  which  carries 
the  same  hero  through  the  six  books  of  the  series,  is  always 
entertaining,  novel  scenes  and  varied  incidents  giving  a con- 
stantly changing,  yet  always  attractive  aspect  to  the  narra 
u\e.  “Oliver  Optic”  has  written  nothing  better. 


OLIVER  OPTIC’ R BOOKS. 


RIVERDALE  STORY-BOOKS. 

Twelve  volumes,  profusely  illustrated.  A new  edition.  Illuminated  Paper 
(overs,  per  set,  $2  00;  Cloth,  in  neat  box,  per  set,  $3.60. 


l.  LITTLE  MERCHANT. 

2.  YOUNG  VOYAGERS. 

3.  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 

4.  DOLLY  AND  I. 

5.  UNCLE  BEN. 

6.  BIRTHDAY  PARTY. 

7.  PROUD  AND  LAZY. 

8.  CARELESS  KATE. 

9.  ROBINSOE  CRUSOE,  JR. 

10.  THE  PICNIC  PARTY, 

li.  THE  GOLD  THIMBLE. 

12.  THE  DO-SOMETHINGS. 


The  “Riverdale  Stories”  are  a series  of  short  bright  sto 
ries  for  younger  children  than  those  who  are  able  to  compre 
lend  44  The  Starry  Flag  Series,”  44  The  Woodville  Stories,5 
4 Army  and  Navy  Stories,”  &c.  But  they  all  display  the 
author’s  talent  for  pleasing  44  Little  Folks”  as  well  as  the 
older  children.  They  are  all  fresh,  taking  stories,  preaching 
no  sermons  but  inculcating  good  lessons 


OLIVER  OPTIC’S  BOOKS. 


YOUNG  AMERICA  ABROAD. 

SECOND  SERIES. 

4 library  of  Travel  and  Adventure  in  Foreign  Lands.  16mo. 
Illustrated  by  JVast,  Stevens,  Perkins,  and  others. 

Per  volume,  $1.50. 


1.  UP  THE  BALTIC ; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Norway,  Sweden,  and 
Denmark. 

2.  NORTHERN  LANDS; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Russia  and  Prussia, 

3.  CROSS  AND  CRESCENT; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Turkey  and  Greece. 

4.  SUNNY  SHORES; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Italy  and  Austria. 

5.  VINE  AND  OLIVE; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Spain  and  Portugal. 

€.  ISLES  OF  THE  SEA; 

Or,  Young  America  Homeward  Bound. 


u Oliver  Optic”  h a nom  de  plume  that  is  known  and  loved 
by  almost  every  boy  of  intelligence  in  the  land.  We  have 
seen  a highly  intellectual  and  world-weary  man.  a cynic  whose 
heart  was  somewhat  imbittered  by  its  large  experience  of 
human  nature,  take  up  one  of  Oliver  Optic’s  books  and  read 
it  at  a sitting,  neglecting  his  work  in  yielding  to  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  pages.  When  a mature  and  exceedingly  well- 
informed  mind,  long  despoiled  of  all  its  freshness,  can  thus 
find  pleasure  in  a book  for  boys,  no  additional  words  of  rec- 
ommendation are  needed.  — Sunday  Times . 


OLIVER  OPTIC'S  BOOKS. 


YOUNG  AMERICA  ABROAD. 

FIRST  SERIES. 

A Library  of  Travel  and  Adventure  in  Foreign  Lands.  16m*. 
illustrated  by  Aast,  Stevens,  Perkins,  and  others. 

Per  volume,  $1.50. 

1.  OUTWARD  BOUND; 

Or,  Young  America  Afloat. 

2.  SHAMROCK  AND  THISTLE; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Ireland  and  Scotland, 

3.  RED  CROSS; 

Or.  Young  America  in  England  and  Wales. 

4.  DIKES  AND  DITCHES; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Holland  and  Belgium. 

5.  PALACE  AND  COTTAGE; 

Or,  Young  America  in  France  and  Switzerland. 

DOWN  THE  RHINE; 

Or,  Young  America  in  Germany. 


The  story  from  its  inception  and  through  the  twelve  vol 
umes  (aee  Second  Series) , is  a bewitching  one,  while  the  in- 
formation imparted,  concerning  the  countries  of  Europe  and 
the  isles  of  the  sea,  is  not  onty  correct  in  every  particular,  but 
is  told  in  a captivating  style.  “ Oliver  Optic”  will  continue 
to  be  the  boy’s  friend,  and  his  pleasant  books  will  continue  to 
he  read  b}T  thousands  of  American  boys.  What  a fine  holiday 
present  either  or  both  series  of  “ Young  America  Abroad” 
would  be  for  a young  friend  ! It  would  make  a little  library 
highly  prized  by  the  recipient,  and  would  not  be  an  expensive 
one.  — Providence  Press . 


ELIJAH  KELLOGG'S  LOCKS. 


- THE 

MISSION  OF  BLACK  RIFLE. 

16mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 

“ The  hero,  ‘ Black  Rifle,’  is  a noted  Indian  hunter,  who  devoted 
Ais  life  to  avenge  the  cruelties  he  suffered  at  the  hands  of  savages 
in  his  youth.  His  miraculous  escapes,  amazing  exploits,  and  won- 
derful success  in  killing  Indians,  led  to  the  belief  that  he  bore  a 
charmed  life,  and  made  him  at  once  the  terror  of  the  red  men  and 
the  hope  and  protection  of  the  white  settlers  in  his  neighborhood. 
The  other  characters  of  the  story  are  strongly  drawn.” — Man- 
chester Union. 


BURYING  THE  HATCHET; 

OR,  THE  YOUNG  BRAVE  OF  THE  DELAWARE. 

16mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 


“ The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  Pennsylvania  more  than  one 
hundred  years  ago,  when  that  part  of  the  country  was  overrun  by 
Indians  and  wild  beasts.  The  building  of  the  wind-mill,  the  saw- 
mill, the  pottery,  the  brick-kiln,  and  the  ceiled  school-house 
brought  the  primitive  life  of  those  early  settlers  into  a state  ot 
comfort  we  should  find  it  hard  to  understand,  if  the  graphic  pic- 
ture of  their  life  without  them  had  not  been  given  us.  While  the 
book  is  full  of  adventure,  it  is  not  more  so  than  a history  of  that 
period  would  give ; and  the  noble  qualities  of  a simple  piety,  cour- 
age, perseverance,  and  love  are  well  depicted.”  — Christian  Union. 


ELIJAH  KELLOGG'S  BOOKS. 


WOLF  RUN; 

Or,  THE  BOYS  of  the  WILDERNESS. 

16mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 

“ In  this  work,  the  Rev.  Elijah  Kellogg,  already  well  known  as 
the  author  of  several  series  of  boys’  books,  has  forcibly  portrayed 
the  trials  and  adventures  of  the  early  settlers  of  Pennsylvania. 
Don’t  fancy,  boys,  that  because  this  book  is  written  by  a clergy- 
man, that  it  is  all  Sunday-school  and  goody-goody  talk.  On  the 
contrary,  there  is  lots  of  hunting  in  it,  and  Indian  fights  that 
will  make  you  feel  for  your  scalp  every  minute,  and  look  under 
the  bed  for  ‘Injuns.’  ” — Forest  and  Stream , New  York , June  24,  ’75. 


FOREST  GLEN; 

Or,  THE  MOHAWK’S  FRIENDSHIP. 

16mo.  Cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 

“ A story  of  Indian  warfare,  in  which  a chapter  of  pioneer  his- 
tory is  introduced,  involving  the  early  struggles  of  the  Pennsylva- 
nians with  the  Indians.  Quakers  and  the  world’s  people  treat 
their  assailants  according  to  their  views  of  right,  and  the  story 
brings  out  a strange  contrast  between  the  fighting  and  the  non- 
fighting combatants,  as  well  as  some  instances  of  noble  action  on 
the  side  of  the  Indians.  Bear-fights,  and  other  rough  experiences 
of  primitive  times,  add  to  the  excitement  of  the  narrative,’1  — 
Albany  Time*. 


ELIJAH  KELLOGG'S  BOOKS. 


SOWED  BY  THE  WIND; 

OR,  THE  POOR  BOY’S  FORTUNE. 

16mo.  Cloth*  Illustrated*  81  25. 

“Ned,  an  English  boy,  the  hero,  in  attempting  t*>  look  into  a 
Dird’s-nest,  is  borne  by  the  breaking  of  a limb  to  the  water,  and  is 
finally  lodged  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  an  old  tree,  uprooted  by  the 
wind.  From  this  place  he  is  rescued  by  a passing  vessel,  bound 
{or  Baltimore,  which  was  then  ‘ in  his  Majesty’s  province  of  Mary- 
land,’ and  the  lesson  taught  by  his  perseverance  and  constant 
effort,  till  at  the  end  he  is  left  with  a snug  little  home  of  his 
own,  — and  dearly  prized  for  the  severe  struggles  it  cost  him,  — 
is  very  entertainingly  given.”  — Northampton  Journal . 


BROUGHT  TO  THE  FRONT; 

OR,  THE  YOUNG  DEFENDERS. 

lGmo.  Cloth.  Illustrated*  $1  25. 

“The  scene  is  laid  among  the  backwoods  of  Pennsylvania,  on 
the  borders  of  a small  stream,  and  hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by 
mountains  and  forest.  Heavy  burdens  are  laid  upon  the  young 
heroes  of  the  story  — fighting  the  Indians,  aiding  the  toils  and 
sharing  the  perils  of  their  parents,  always  accomplishing  what 
they  undertook,  and  showing  at  all  times  an  unflinching  courage 
and  endurance.  A story  of  the  woods  and  Indians  never  fails  to 
have  a strong  charm  for  young  readers,  and  this  one,  like  all  of  Mr. 
Kellogg’s  stories,  will  be  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.”  — 
Hartford  Times . 


